


An Unsightly Blemish

by fineandwittie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU from sixth year on, Angst, Because when is there not?, Death Eater Harry Potter, Death Eaters, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I've always like fanfic!harry better than canon!harry anyway, Intrigue, M/M, Post-War, Professor Potter, Vorabiza, because canon!harry is a whiny little shit, but not for Harry, everyone's probably out of character anyway, inspired by Pushing the Limits, since I'm pretty sure I've read too many fanfics to write the characters like JKR does anymore, sort of, this is a rewrite of a fragment of a fic based on someone else's fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange are still at large and that? That dictates all the rest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Warning: This is done. For now anyway. But I'm treating it as complete.
> 
> Hopefully, you enjoy it. I haven't been active in the HP fandom in sometime, but Harry Potter has written itself into my soul.

None of those who had died during the war had come back as ghosts, at least not as far as Harry knew. Which seemed odd, when you thought about how many people had died. Not a single ghost.

It made the hovering faces of Colin Creevey, Astoria Greengrass, and half a dozen younger years whose names he had never learned even more disconcerting. Harry blinked hard, trying to drive away the ghostly overlay that his brain was taunting him with. Any moment, Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood would wonder in, gossamer and dripping blood, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. Not tonight. 

Movement to his left sharpened his senses and drove away the dead. He opened his eyes and glanced left, even though he was pretty certain he already knew who had approached him. 

“This is going to be an unusual year for you.” Severus’ voice was low, with a hint of a question in it. 

Harry smiled, turning back to look out over the Great Hall. He had not had the pleasure of seeing it from this position since his sorting nearly a decade before. “It will be at that. Odder than usual, even.” He watched as the students began to pour in through the large double doors and seek out their seats. 

The first years would be crossing the lake with Sinistra right now, seeing the castle for the first time. Harry ruthlessly suppressed the sting of Hagrid’s loss. The man had been dead for almost two years, but being back at Hogwarts seemed to reopen old wounds.

“Do you think I can do it?”

Severus glanced at him and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I am quite certain that me extolling your virtues would send this experience quite into the realm of the fantastical.”

Harry let a smirk curl at his mouth. The knot of tension that seemed to sit at the base of his neck for the past couple weeks loosened. He rolled his shoulders and stood. “Shall we?”

Severus inclined his head and gestured for Harry to precede him. Circling the Head Table, Harry took the empty seat to the Headmistress’s right. Severus sat in his usual seat on Harry’s other side.

“Professor Potter.”

“Headmistress.”

Minerva grinned at him. “Having doubts, my boy?”

Harry snorted. “Don’t you start with that. It was bad enough from Albus.”

Minerva laughed. “Alright, Harry. You shouldn’t worry, you know. You are more than qualified. If I had doubts about your competency, I wouldn’t have hired you.”

“My competency? Minerva, I’m the Defense teacher. I could be a dancing bear and still get hired for that position.”

Severus tried to stifle a snort and mostly succeeded. “The curse on the position has become a thing of legend.”

Minerva rolled her eyes, looking as though she were praying for strength. “As you say. Which means there is no way you can fail, since you are at least marginally more intelligent than a dancing bear.” She paused to let him absorb this blow. Severus did not even try to stifle his snort this time. “In all seriousness, Harry, you are a veteran of the war. Surely you can put some of those skills to use in a classroom full of children?”

“Two years ago, many of those children were my classmates and peers.”

Severus cut his gaze to Harry, real concern in his eyes, though he kept his face forward. Insecurity was not in Harry’s nature, though self-doubt perhaps was. He hadn’t realized Harry was still so unsure about the position he’d accepted. 

The woman frowned. “And what does that to do with this? Harry…what you did in the war…The things that you experienced…You have not been a child for some time, your youth not withstanding. Age is merely a number.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. “Before you protest, yes, I will allow that a small number of them also fought. But in a very limited capacity and none of them saw what you saw. The vast majority experienced the war as fear, as hiding, not as direct combat. Your place is here. Your experience, your breadth of knowledge, and your power all demand that your place is here, teaching. There is nothing more you need that we can teach you. But remember that a teacher learns from their students too.”

Harry exhaled. “Thank you, Minerva. I…I realize that it’s a little late in the game to be voicing such concern. Although…Did you play Quidditch, by any chance? You would, I think, have given much better motivational speeches than Oliver ever managed. Much more _effective_.” He shot a pointed look at Severus.

Severus merely raised his eyebrows. “I refuse to pander to the needless worry of a Gryffindor. You are a Slytherin. Act like it.”

Harry laughed aloud and the knot came a little looser. They were both right. This was where he belonged.

Minerva leaned forward to frown around Harry. “What on earth are you talking about? Harry was a Gryffindor. In fact, it is quite well known that Harry is the quintessential Gryffindor.”

Severus turned to look at her, his mouth twisted into a smirk, but said nothing.

She turned to Harry in confusion. Harry shrugged “I talked the hat into it. It said that in Slytherin, I could be great, but I begged and begged to be put anywhere else. Thus Gryffindor.”

Minerva’s eyes bugged and her mouth actually fell open a little. She gaped at him for a long moment. “That is the most Slytherin thing I have ever heard.”

Severus nodded sagely. “Isn’t it?” He scowled down at the students, who were shooting confused looks up at the Head Table.

Harry noticed Hermione and Ron sitting side-by-side across from Ginny at the Gryffindor table. They had all turned to stare openly at him. He offered them a smile, but shook his head sharply when Hermione made to stand. She sank back in her seat glaring at him. 

He turned his attention back to Severus, arching an eyebrow at him. Severus looked flatly back for a moment before addressing himself to Minerva again. “He should be a Slytherin, yet he is a Gryffindor and I am forced to put up with it. Only I would be saddled with such a thing.”

Harry laughed. “You love me for it, Sev.” He crooned in a tone he knew grated on Severus’ nerves.

Severus’ lip curled. “How many time must I tell you to stop calling me that?”

Harry grinned. “At least once more, as always.”

Minerva watched them with a twinkle in her eye that would have made Dumbledore jealous. “I did not realize that the two of you were involved.”

Severus’ jaw clenched and Harry’s face went blank. He waited and sure enough, “I assure you, Minerva, Potter and I are not, in anyway, involved.”

Harry managed to force a believable grin. “Oh, Potter, now am I? I was Harry last night. And also five minutes ago…”

Minerva coughed politely and Severus glared at him. Harry’s grin loosened at little. “Well, this is just like old times. Do you think that lot simply think I got lost and wandered up here? All we need to feel right at home is Draco shouting insults.”

Severus sighed softly. “I’m sure he’d oblige if you asked.”

“Ah but it just isn’t the same when the hatred and insults are requested, is it?” Harry turned back to survey the students again. Most them were staring now. “So, which do you think is confusing them more? The fact that I’m here or the fact that we having a pleasant conversation? Because as far as any of them know, we still hate each other.”

“Speak for yourself, Potter. I still hate you.” Severus’ tone, however, was distinctly sullen.

Harry laughed and offered a conspiratorial smile to Minerva. “So he says now. Later will be an entirely different story, when—“

“Potter, if you finish that sentence the way I think you are planning, I will skin you myself and use your internal organs for potion’s ingredients.”

Harry snapped his mouth shut, knowing exactly how serious Severus’ threats could be. He was fairly certain the man wouldn’t use him in a potion, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his revenge some other way. There was a brief pause, Minerva twinkling at them, before Harry felt compelled to point out, “You realize that just makes it sound worse, don’t you, Sev?” Severus turned to face Harry fully, actual annoyance on his face and Harry cut him off quickly, “Oh look! First years. Yay.”

This served well enough as a distraction for all of them, mostly because Sinistra had already made her way to where the Sorting Hat sat upon its stool. There were more than double the usual number of first years, which was no surprise considering Hogwarts had been closed for two years. Indeed, the number was significantly lower than it could have been, thanks to all the pureblood families who had elected to send their children overseas to school. Beauxbatons, Drumstrang, and Ilvermore has all seen a sizable influx of British students. But not all of the new students with muggleborns and half-bloods.

“Zabini, Brigid.”

Harry frowned slightly at this, the final name. He leaned close to Severus and murmured, “I didn’t realize that Zabini had a sister.”

Severus sneered. “Yes. Same father, different mother. And lucky for the girl too. Zabini’s mother is…not someone you would ever want to meet. Even the Dark Lord found her distasteful.”

Harry nearly reared back at this bit of information, but controlled the reaction from long practice. Instead, his lip curled back in disgust and he nodded.

Minerva had stood and spread her hands. Everyone fell silent. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts.” The room cheered. “We are immensely pleased to be able to welcome you all back this year, now that the war is over and Voldemort is truly dead.” Another cheer. “I know those of you returning to us are accustomed to Headmaster Dumbledore’s…eccentric style.” A chuckle. Harry breathed. Dumbledore’s loss had been more difficult than any of the others. “But I am not quite as eccentric as he was. I will make the start of term announcements before the feast, so that you will actually pay attention.” 

Harry snorted softly and Minerva shot him a look. “Firstly, as you all might have noticed, there is a very small number of what might be deemed eighth years sitting among you. I opened an invitation to any students who had missed part of their seventh year here, due to the Battle of Hogwarts, the closure of the school, or other extenuating circumstances. A dozen or so students took me up on that invitation, so welcome to you few. I hope life at Hogwarts will be as good or better than you remember.”

Now that he’d been made aware of it and was looking, Harry noticed two extra redheads seated at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George grinned broadly around, something akin to childish glee in their faces. Harry suppressed a groan. He was a professor now and that expression on those faces meant pranks and detention. It was far less amusing from this side of the room. He skimmed the rest of the crowd, putting aside whatever the twins might be planning. There were a couple more familiar faces at the Gryffindor table, a few at the Hufflepuff, and…Cho Chang was sitting beside Luna Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table. Harry’s brow furrowed. What on earth prompted Cho to come back? 

“These ‘eighth years’ will be mixing into the seventh year classes. And I hope you will welcome them with open arms.” She paused and stared warningly around. “Secondly, as headmistress, I will no longer be teaching the full load of Transfiguration classes. However, until a permanent replacement can be found, I will retain the first year and seventh year classes. Professor Sinistra has graciously agreed to take on third, fourth, fifth, and sixth year classes in addition to her own astronomy course load. The second years will be taught by our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” She paused and whispers spread like fiend-fyre across the hall. “I’d like, therefore, to introduce to you the newest member of our staff: Harry Potter.”

Harry stood gracefully, his mouth dry and sweat prickling down his back. A hand wrapped briefly around the back of his thigh, hidden by the table, and he glanced down at Severus with a faint smile. The entire hall was dead silent for a moment, before the room erupted into an absolute cacophony of sound. Minerva waved him forward, her expression suitably stern, but that damn twinkle in her eye. Harry wondered nonsensically if twinkling eyes were inherited as part of the job. “I believe you wished to say a few words, Harry.”

Harry inclined his head. The decibel level in the Hall had not lowered. Even using the voice he’d perfected for being heard over the sound of a battle wouldn’t breach it effectively. With a sigh, Harry tilted his head and took a small step forward. Instead of running into the table, he vanished, only to reappear on the other side. 

The silence was nearly as deafening as the sound had been. He smiled, just a little twist of his mouth. “Better.”

“I was under the impression that you were not going to reveal that special skill to anyone as of yet.” 

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Severus’ sardonic tone. The man was pinching the bridge of his impressive nose. Minerva was gaping at him. “Needs must, Severus.” He tossed them a saucy smile and turned back to the room.

“Hermione, don’t bother.” His friend’s bushy head reappeared from where it had ducked under the table. She glared, affronted. “ _Hogwarts, A History_ hasn’t changed its mind. It still says that you can’t apparate inside the school.” A brief bout of laughter rippled through the room. “It wasn’t apparation.” She frowned fiercely at him. Ron was grinning. 

Harry turned away from his friends and his gaze swept the room. It was fuller than he’d ever seen it, what with the extra first years and the eighth years. Even the Triwizard Tournament hadn’t brought this many extra students. “Good evening, everyone. I know the majority of you already, but for those of you I have not met, I’m Harry Potter.” The soft buzz of whispers quieted after a moment when it became clear he wasn’t going to add anything while people were talking. “Good. Now, I’m sure many of you have questions. Questions about a great number of things. The headmistress has very kindly lent me this room, so tomorrow immediately following breakfast, I will be holding a press conference, my first public appearance since the war’s end. For one hour, I will answer as well as I can any questions that the media might put to me. I will remain in this room, once the press is gone for another hour. If you have any questions regarding my position as your Defense teacher, feel free to ask them then. If you have any questions regarding anything else, I don’t care, as they’re likely none of your business.”

He turned, this time intending to walk the long way around the table, when a voice from the Slytherin table called, “Here’s one. What makes you qualified to teach?”

The voice sounded like Theodore Nott, but Harry wouldn’t bet money on it. He hadn’t heard the boy speak since Hogwarts closed. 

Harry turned back and eyed the far table. “My education is a matter of public record. The date and times that I received my NEWTs and my Masteries are recorded in the archives at the Ministry for Magic. Should you wish to investigate them, feel free. If, after examining them closely, you still have doubts, I suggest you take them up with the Headmistress. I can assure you that Minerva McGonagall does not play favorites and would not have hired me if she did not believe me competent enough to hold this position.”

“You don’t sound like Harry! Where the bloody ‘ell have you been for the past two years?” Seamus yelled from his place next to Dean. 

Harry blinked and his nostrils flared. Seamus, Dean, and most of the Gryffindor seventh years looked around with wary expectation. That expression on Harry’s face usually meant involuntary magic, but the lights didn’t flicker, the windows didn’t rattle, and nothing exploded. “Seamus, I have been fighting the war. You were expecting an outburst of my wild magic. I can see it in your face. If I was as undisciplined now as I was the last time you saw me, we would all likely be dead. Or living under the rule of the Dark Lord. We are not. I have spent the last two years, slowly and steadily winning this war. With the help of many, many others. I cannot give you much more detail than that. I don’t sound like I used to? I am not who I used to be. Being on active duty at the center of a war for two full years without reprieve changes you. I am not who I was, but I would not change who I am. The boy I was when Hogwarts closed could not have done what needed doing. So, no. I don’t sound the same. I don’t act the same. I am not the same. Because that is what war does.”

“Well said, Harry.” Minerva said, as Harry retook his seat. “I ask you to refrain from anymore questions tonight. There will be more than enough time tomorrow. Voldemort is dead, that particular threat has passed, but for those who fought on the front lines, the war is not over yet and might never be.” She paused and took a breath. “Now, for those new to Hogwarts…”

Harry let the sound of her voice wash over him without really taking any of it in. When the food appeared on the table, he let the noise of dinner cover the sound of his voice. “Was I so out of control back then, that such a small comment would have triggered me?”

Severus snorted. “Yes.”

Harry exhaled slowly. He truly was a different person now. He hardly remembered how to react as he had before the war began in earnest. So much had happened. The boy he’d been didn’t seem to matter now.

Someone at one of the student tables dropped something and it shattered. Harry flinched hard, fists clenched on the table top, and fought the need to draw his wand.

Severus cut his dark gaze sideways at him, face blank and no doubt hiding concern. “Harry, you need to get that under control.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, just breathing, before he pointedly loosened his fists and relaxed. “I realize.” He swallowed. “I just…It hasn’t been so very long. And Minerva was right. It’s not over yet.”

Severus nodded once and let his eyes slide back to his food. The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet. They were far enough from the students that the muted din of their conversation never resolved into actual words. Harry himself was too busy dreading the end of the meal and Severus could never have been described as talkative. The Headmistress was busy talking to Aurora, who was, as Deputy Headmistress, seated on her other side. 

Once the meal was finished, Minerva stood again to give another set of instructions, this time to the first years. Harry ignored them.

“So,” he said conversationally, pushing back his chair. “How long do I have before Ron, Ginny, and Hermione accost me and demand answers?”

Severus eyed the students in question for a moment before turning back to Harry. “Five minutes, if you wish to be optimistic. Likely considerably less.”

Harry sighed, standing and turning to lean against the table. “Can I come hid in your rooms?”

Severus snorted. “No, you may not. But I will accompany you to your own, if you wish.”

Harry grinned, feeling a measure of the tension in him recede. Even if he and Severus were no longer what he wanted them to be, it did not mean that the man was any less his friend. “You just don’t want me giving things away.”

Severus sighed dramatically. “You think so little of me.” 

Harry laughed, which had probably been Severus’ intention.

“I should have figured this out before. I just…I didn’t want to think about it. What exactly should I tell them?”

“You should tell us what you think you’re doing and where you’ve been for the past two years.” Hermione’s voice said tightly from somewhere over his left shoulder. 

Harry tensed automatically and couldn’t overcome his instincts this time. His wand dropped out of its holster into his hand before he realized that he’d even moved. Severus’s hand darted out and snagged his wrist, bringing his attention to it. Harry took a deep breath, re-holstered the weapon. Severus gently released him. Harry exhaled and deliberately shook away the visible tension in his shoulders, turning.

Ginny, Neville, Luna, Cho, Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione were all clustered in front of the High Table, gaping at Severus. Harry smiled tightly. “I’m sorry. It’s really not a good idea to come up behind me like that. Severus was just attempting to prevent…an incident. I tend to curse first and ask questions later. Souvenir of the war.”

Hermione shook away the shock first. “Thank you, then, Professor Snape. Harry, I want an explanation.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but he ground his teeth. “You’ll get at least some of one. Why don’t we all have a chat in my rooms? Severus?” 

“Lead on.”

Harry smiled down at him. “Thanks.”

Severus stood and followed Harry out of the Great Hall. Harry’s friends trailed behind, mouths agape again.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry’s rooms were in the dungeons, to everyone else’s horror. The painting hanging over the entrance was a landscape, causing Hermione to frown. Harry touched it with his wand and it swung open. He motioned everyone in. The living room reminded the Gryffindors of their common room, though much smaller. It had the same large fireplace and overstuffed furniture, only in grey instead of red and gold. A desk stood in the corner, tucked into overstuffed bookshelves. Severus raised an eyebrow. “At least, it is not red...or gold.”

Harry rolled his eyes, slipping off his outer robes and hanging them on the stand by the door. “Don’t start, Sev. You’re keyed into the painting, by the way.”

Severus inclined his head and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry motioned for everyone to sit. 

They seemed less like a group intending to interrogate him and more like a gaggle of lost ducklings. They wandered haphazardly over to the fireplace. Fred and George plopped down on the carpet, looking awed. Neville took one of the armchairs and pulled Ginny down onto his lap, holding her close. He seemed the most uncomfortable of the group, the lines of his body rigid with tension. Ginny snuggled in and wound their hands together. Ron took the matching armchair and pulled Luna down with him. She seemed quite content with the arrangement. In fact, as usual, she appeared quite unfazed by any of it. Hermione and Cho curled up close together at the end of the sofa. Harry stared for a second. “Clearly, I missed some things.”

Hermione glared at him. “Clearly.”

Harry sighed, feeling the tension knot across his shoulders again. He had missed so much. He hadn’t even spoke to any of them since the school closed. It felt like decades. So much had changed for him. He wasn’t sure he could articulate just how different he felt. He wasn’t sure they’d understand. He didn’t know how they’d experienced the war, not really. He knew what battles they’d participated in and in what capacity, but that hardly seemed to matter. He didn’t really know them anymore. His eyes were hot and itchy. His skin felt too tight across his bones. He sat heavily on the sofa and put his head in his hands. 

There was complete stillness, until he felt a hand on the back of his neck and a teacup appeared in front of him. He turned to smile gratefully at Severus, who pursed his lips. His eyes traced the lines of Harry’s body and Harry couldn’t imagine what he saw that made his face soften. “No matter how much time passes, certain things do not change. Love does not always fade. Tell them who you are now and worry about anything else after. As you always tell me, do not borrow trouble.”

Harry exhaled and nodded. There was really nothing else he could do. “Thank you, Sev.” 

Ignoring the nickname, he changed the subject. “Your rooms are laid out identically to mine?” 

Harry nodded. “Same training library and all.”

“Good.” Severus straightened and his hand fell away. “There is a book in the training room in which I wish to check a reference. I will return shortly.”

With that, Severus nodded and left without acknowledging anyone else. Harry drank his tea in one go, knowing that Severus had probably put a calming draught in it. When he did look up, almost everyone but the twins was staring at him in horror. He glanced over his shoulder, confused, but there was nothing there. “What? What’s wrong?”

Fred and George grinned broadly. “So, Harry, how long have you been shagging the Potions’ Master?”

Harry stared for a long moment before his face went entirely blank. “Excuse me?”

Fred’s eyes narrowed and he glanced over at his brother. “I don’t remember ever seeing Harry so expressionless, George.”

“Me either, Fred. I think that means he has something to hide.”

Harry’s mouth flattened into a line and he continued to stare blankly at the twins. Ron’s expression grew even more horrified as he looked between Harry and his brothers. “You are actually having sex with SNAPE?”

Harry, finally breaking eye contact, pinched the bridge of his nose in an unconscious mimicry of Severus. Ron looked vaguely nauseated at this. 

Harry could feel a headache gathering at his temples. “Ron, the training room is just down the hall. I’m sure he can hear you.”

Ron paled and looked in terror at the doorway that Severus had disappeared through. Harry chuckled darkly, when Ron looked back at him. Harry turned a sharp eye on the twins. “You realize that he is going to kill me for this and likely you as well.”

Both twins looked stunned. “Wait! You mean, you actually are shagging Snape?”

Harry blinked and blew out a breath, looking shifty. “You were joking?”

George nodded, wide eyed. 

Harry slumped back into the couch helplessly. Severus was going to be so angry. How could he manage to hold out under actual torture, but a single joke from the twins had him telling the one secret Severus had wanted kept?

Because of course, that was the one secret Severus never wanted to see the light of day. Harry’s stomach twisted sharply. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen after they killed Voldemort, but this was not it. Rejection? That he’d sort of expected. But a casual dismissal, as though the sex had merely been something to pass the time and relieve tension? Something that Severus would like to forget ever happened now that the threat had passed? Something that the older man actively pretended hadn’t happened? That he had not been prepared for. Not at all.

Hermione let out an annoyed breath and Cho wrapped an arm around her waist. “As…disturbing as this is, it’s also not important or even remotely what we came here for. Harry?”

“Yes, alright.” He shoved thoughts of Severus sharply away and straightened. “I disappeared when the school closed two years ago without a word. You’re angry. I understand that. It’s a perfectly reasonable reaction.” Harry paused, staring into the fire. He wasn’t sure how much it was safe to explain to them. What would make them targets and what wouldn’t. Though, as he considered this, it was possible they were already targets just by being his friends. But again, telling them anything might be a risk. There were still several high ranking Death Eaters at large… “Sixth year was…hell, actually. I know I was a poor friend that year. I hardly spoke to anyone and I did very little besides classes, Quidditch, meetings with the Headmaster, and remedial potions. I spent the entire year in an absolutely foul mood. I’m sure you remember and I apologize for that. But… ‘remedial potions’ wasn’t potions at all. Severus…Well, there was this argument that we had with the Headmaster. Dumbledore was convinced that the power of love would save us all and that I would have to die to defeat Voldemort. Severus, during one of my failed attempts to learn Occulmency, had heard the prophecy in its entirety. Well, he and I strongly disagreed with the Headmaster. We got into a screaming row in his office. Not Snape and I. Albus and I. I demanded extra training, to help me prepare. He dismissed the idea. Severus was livid. We finally managed to convince Albus that it was worthwhile. So we hid it behind remedial potions. Albus, in the meantime, was giving me a crash course in Dark Lords, or rather one dark lord in particular. He knew more about that bastard’s life story than I ever imagined he could. Hermione, Ron? You remember what I told you about how He tried to become immortal?” The two nodded, eyes wide. “And then the Dark Lord attacked the school at the end of the year and the wards fell…When Dumbledore died and the school locked itself, I was trapped inside. Or rather back inside. I’d gone to get Gryffindor’s sword. I had some wild idea that I could use that to kill the Dark Lord and then solve the immortality problem later. That was obviously quite mad, but it worked out. I was trapped inside and the school’s behaviour terrified Him. He’d never heard of that happening before and that’s the reason He pulled out of the fight and took His Death Eaters with Him.” Harry stood and paced to the fireplace. His grip on the mantle was white knuckled. “Crabbe and Goyle died fighting their own parents that day and a lot of other innocent people died as well. It…It made me realize that I had to do something. I couldn’t just…stay in school and do nothing like I had been. I managed to escape through the Chamber of Secrets. I hunted down Severus and begged him to teach me. Everything…Anything that would help me kill the bastard.”

Fred was grinning at him, clearly trying to break the tension. “So, how’d shagging help you defeat Voldemort, huh?”

Harry flinched and his face went blank again. Neville reached down and whacked Fred in the head. “Now is not the time, guys. Tease him about it later…preferably when Professor Snape is not down the hall.”

“Professor Snape is not down the hall now and he is wondering why exactly it is that Mr. Weasley asked you that, Potter?”

Harry flinched again. Severus’ voice was colder than he had heard it in months. “I…they guessed?”

“They. Guessed.”

Harry turned to raise a sardonic eyebrow at the older man. “Yes. Apparently touches, tea, and nicknames mean that we’re shagging.”

Severus massaged his temples. “I will regret that until the day I die, won’t I?”

Harry’s grin was sharp and wolfish. It was Severus’ turn to flinch. The idea that Severus regretted what they’d been caused bile to rise in his throat and a manic glint to flash in his eyes. He pushed it all away. “Which time?”

Several of his friends gasped at his response or possibly his tone of voice. Harry laughed, harsh and bitter even to his own ears. Well, bitter laughter was better than helpless tears at any rate. 

Severus glowered at him, actual concern disappearing behind irritation. “All of them. Would you like a number?”

Harry shrugged, the movement smooth and somehow dangerous. “You counted? Of course, you did.” He let go of the mantle and turned fully. “I don’t care. I doubt there is anything you can say that would matter to me and if you did tell them exactly how many times we fucked, it would be only yourself you embarrassed.”

That blow hit home, possibly harder than he’d meant it to. Severus’ eyes darkened and his chin came up. He narrowed his eyes. “Potter, do remember your training. I have not seen you quite this out of control in some time. And watch your language.”

Harry’s mouth twisted into a smirk and he cocked an eyebrow. “Potter, am I? Well, fuck you, Severus. We’re in my rooms, which means I can speak however the fuck I want.”

Severus stepped into the room from his place in the doorway, visibly shaking off his anger. “Calm yourself. Before you cause an incident.”

Harry’s jaw worked and he swallowed. “I haven’t had a wild magic accident in over a year, Severus. I doubt—“

“I can see it.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

Severus shook his head and moved across the room to lift Harry’s left hand from where it was clenching and unclenching by his side. “I can see the magic. It’s sparking along your skin. You’re maybe a handful of minutes from making something explode. What is wrong with you tonight, Harry?”

Glancing down, Harry saw that Severus was right. Sparks of magic were crackling along his fingertips and across his palm. He swallowed and turned his hand over, wrapping his fingers around Severus’. He shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. Severus squeezed his hand. Harry counted. Finally, the too tight feeling of his skin loosened and the magic receded.

“Better.” Severus murmured and dropped Harry’s hand. He turned back toward the couch and stopped, blinking around the room. “That is…unexpected.”

Harry laughed, more relief than merriment. “I know what you mean.” He paused. “Severus…”

The man turned to him, a question in his eyes.

“I know telling them the truth puts them in danger, but I think not telling them won’t keep them from it. Should…the need arise for…well, Lucius, Bellatrix, and the others are still at large. They could help provide a cover story of some kind, should we have need of one.”

Severus stood perfectly still for a moment. “Yes.” He finally breathed. “You might be right. Their association with you would suggestion to the remaining Death Eaters that they do know more than they ought whether they do or not. They will need to be spelled, but you are lucky that none of the remaining Death Eaters are Legilimens.”

Harry smirked at him. “Well…”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Alright. None of the harmful ones.” Harry laughed. “Not that you need my permission to tell them anything. It is your story and your life. I do agree that they could be useful though.”

Hermione was scowling darkly at them. “You were going to lie? After all this time? After all we’ve been through? You were going to lie to us.”

Harry smiled. Hermione flinched back. “Yes. I was going to lie to you. If the truth wasn’t going to prove useful to me, I would still be intending to lie to you. Because there is a very good chance that you will never speak to me again, once you know the truth. I cannot guarantee with any degree of certainty that any of you will even be able to look at me again after tonight.”

Hermione was shaking her head in confusion and denial. Ron shifted in his seat. “What happened, Harry?”

Harry exhaled, looking around with an empty gaze that made more than one of his little audience shiver. “I took the Dark Mark and became a Death Eater. I joined Voldemort.” 

Ron choke and Fred laughed, thin and impossible. “Pull the other one, mate.”

Severus touch Harry’s shoulder, gently. Harry turned to look at him over his shoulder. He nodded and reached down to roll up his shirt cuff. The Dark Mark was an ugly stain on his otherwise unblemished skin. It stood out, sharp lines that seemed to move still, though its master had been dead for nearly half a year.

Hermione looked ill. Cho wrapped her more securely in her arms and refused to look at Harry. Luna, as usual, seemed unbothered, but Ron looked as sick as Hermione. Ginny had started crying, though Harry wasn’t sure she even realized it.

It was Neville who broke the silence. “How could you? How…how dare you—“

Harry lifted his eyes from where he’d been staring at the mark and they were filled with pain. Neville cringed. “I dare a lot of things. I killed the bastard, didn’t I? Does that make this worth it?” He brandished his arm at them.

Ron swallowed and shook his head, face pinched. “No. Harry, I don't really think it does.”

Severus stiffened at Harry’s back. “Weasley, grow up. You sat out this war in your cozy little house with your brothers and sister and parents all around you. You were afraid? So what? You were comfortable and well fed, while we were on the front lines. Do you understand what it was like? To live every single day knowing that if you made one single mistake, if you slipped up just once, that you would die? That the entire war effort would come screeching to a halt? That, quite possibly, the Light would lose?” Ron was gaping at Severus. They all were. “Do you know what it’s like to put on a blank face and kill a hundred muggles because you have no other choice? How about the feel of an innocent woman as she struggles and claws at you while you rape her, because if you don’t, people will die? What about the feel of the Cruciatus curse? Have you felt it? Have you cast it? Can you cast it? Do you have enough in you to do that? How about while the Dark Lord holds it on you? Because Harry can. We both can. We know. Being a spy, being an undercover operative in a war like this…you cannot possible fathom what it means. Harry sacrificed…everything to save this world of ours. Everything. He did things that would have killed every other person in this room to even attempt, myself included. He did things that would leave you crouched over a toilet bowl for the rest of your lives. And here he is, standing tall, sanity intact. Here he is, willing to tell you, for whatever reason, willing to confide in you and you judge him? How dare you presume to judge him for doing what needed to be done? For doing what no one else was willing to do? You took everything from him, pushed him to the front lines of the war, and used him as a living shield to protect yourselves from what you could not stomach.”

Ron was breathing hard and fast, on the verge of hyperventilating. Hermione looked livid. Harry was staring at Severus, entranced. His black eyes were snapping with barely suppressed rage. Harry had seen Severus kill, but he’d never seen him quite like this before. 

“How dare you speak to him like that?” Hermione leaned forward, shaking off Cho’s comforting arms.

Severus spun on her. “I will speak to him however I damn well please, Miss Granger. Would you prefer it if the Dark Lord had won? If Harry hadn’t lowered himself to take the Mark, that is what would have happened. Would you rather Harry dead? Because that was the only other option here. Harry dead and the Dark Lord in power. You’d likely be dead, along with your muggle parents. Miss Chang would probably be dead as well, half blood that she is. The rest of you would be alright, possibly, since the lot of you are purebloods, but then again the Weasleys are blood traitors and the Longbottoms are basically useless to the cause now that Frank and Alice are in St. Mungos. Miss Lovegood probably would have survived, though her father does published _The Quibbler,_ so again chancy. If you’d managed to survive the war, the Death Eaters would have taken over the ministry. There was talk of a blood status registry. There was talk of camps like in the last war. There was talk of curfews and thought policing spells and closing Hogwarts permanently. And that…that is a mild version of what was likely to happen. So…which would you rather? Harry dirtied by what he had to do and all of us free or your noble hero unsullied and dead and the rest of us living like rats trapped in a cage. Because those are your only two options.”

Harry shivered and swallowed convulsively. “Look,” he said, cutting off whatever response Hermione was going to make. “Let me just explain, okay?”

Hermione’s expression didn’t change, but she stayed silent. Severus continued to stare at her and Ron in icy condemnation. 

“Alright…” Harry took a breath and exhaled. “Just let me…I was telling you what happen during the two years I was missing. Well, taking the Mark was the big event, but let me tell you what lead to it. Let me explain why I did it. And if you want to condemn me after, well…That’s…your prerogative.”

No one spoke, but Ginny gestured encouragingly. Harry rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up. “I went to Severus to ask for help, after I escaped Hogwarts. He gave it to me. I trained with him for six months, intensive spellwork and extremely advanced defense. We got to a point where he couldn’t teach me any more spells that would be useful so we researched and learned additional Defense together. At this point…an idea began to form. There was information I needed, desperately needed, before I could kill the Dark Lord.” Ginny frowned at this. “Information I was certain that no one else could get. Ron and Hermione, you should have a vague idea what I’m taking about. There was no one who would know the answers to the questions I had. No one, but the Dark Lord himself. I needed to get inside his inner circle. I could only think of one…okay, well two ways to do it, but…”

Severus spun around, glaring. Which, of course, had been Harry’s intention. Now Severus’ ire was trained on him. “There was never any chance that you could actually convince anyone. Polyjuicing yourself into me was an idiotic idea from the moment you suggested it. Stop bringing it up.” He moved to the desk and leaned against it, jaw tight and eyes flashing.

Harry huffed. “I realize that. But it’s the truth. Obviously, that wasn’t feasible. However, turning myself into a stranger and pledging myself to Voldemort as a loyal follower was. There was no other solution. Voldemort spoke to Nagini sometimes, telling her things. He also gloated beyond all endurance to his inner circle, but they were all bound not to share the things he said when they were in his inner sanctum. Wizard’s Oath. If I could infiltrate the inner circle, I could hear the things he said. I wouldn’t need to tell anyone, because I was the one who needed the information. And I understand Parseltongue, which mean anything he said to Nagini would in confidence…”

The twins were looking up at him in awe, but he ignored them. 

“I became a Death Eater because it was the only way. I did what I had to do to kill him for good. I destroyed him and now I’m stuck with this…thing on my skin for the rest of my life.” Harry looked down at the Mark on his arm, reaching to trace it with a fingertip. “I’ve tried to get it off. I don’t know what spell he used, but even I haven't been able to remove it. I can’t even just overcome the magic in it, because its link to its source was cut when he died. I can feel it sometimes, burning like acid on my skin. Writhing. A darkness permanently etched into my soul.” Harry laughed, bitter and hollow. Severus stood as he spoke and moved across the room. Harry didn’t seem to notice. “I suppose I deserve it, don’t I? I’ve committed evil. I suppose I should bare the brand on it on my skin for anyone to see. A mark that tells everyone just what I am.”

“Potter!” Severus’ voice was sharp. Harry jerked and blinked up at him through glassy eyes. Severus’ expression softened, the burning anger dissipating. “Stop it.” Harry inhaled sharply and shut his eyes, pressing out the tears that had gathered. They dripped down his cheeks and Severus cupped his face, brushing the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “You won. You fulfilled your destiny, the prophecy, and every expectation that the Headmaster ever had for you. You exceeded every expectation. You freed us from that madman and the reign of terror he was planning. I care very little for what these so called friends of yours think. You, Harry Potter, are a good man.” 

Harry’s eyes flew open and he exhaled the breath he’d been holding in a rush. “Sev?”

Their eyes met. Harry offered him a watery smile. Severus sighed. “You will destroy any credibility I have left.” He muttered almost to himself before leaning down and kissing Harry firmly on the mouth.

Harry made a desperate whining noise in the back of his throat and brought his hands up to clutch at the taller man’s robes, clinging. Everyone else gaped. Hermione’s expression softened into one of confused exasperation. Ron still looked a bit ill, but less like he was about to faint. A moment passed this way before Snape pushed Harry away. “Go. Clean up. And put that thing away.” He gestured vaguely at Harry’s arm. Harry stepped back, silent, and narrowed his eyes. “I will refrain from using them for potions’ ingredients, but more than that, I will not promise. Go. Or do you wish me to repeat myself?”

Harry’s eyes widened marginally. “No! No need for that. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He turned, without looking at anyone, and left the room. Severus frowned after him, then seemed to remember that he was not alone. Sneering down at the twins, he motioned them onto the couch. “Get off the floor, you overgrown children.” 

They complied. “We’re older than Harry, you realize?” George felt compelled to point out as they settled on the couch.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Age is merely a number.”

Fred grinned at him, an edge to his expression that most people had never seen. “Spoken like a man fucking someone half his age.”

Severus tilted his head, eyes going flat, and simply watched him for a moment. “Maturity matters more than the year he was born. Yes, I am old enough to be his father. I did actually attend school with both his parents. They were a year ahead of me. None of which is relevant. Harry has aged well beyond his years. He has seen and done more than wizards three or fours times his age.”

The twins shared a looked, but didn’t press further.

Hermione shifted and Severus’ gaze snapped quickly to her. “I care very little for your good opinion. Any of you. But you are all very important to Harry. What you think of him matters to him. I cannot possibly convey just how much. He has gone through things that no person every should and he has come out stronger for it, but even the strongest steel can shatter. I will not allow that to happen to him. So, if you cannot stop yourselves from cutting off your noses to spite your faces…If you cannot spare him a single kindness, if you cannot bring yourselves to broaden your worldview a little and accept him for who he is, then I will take matters into my own hands. And I will guarantee you will not like the results. You will also never be alone with Harry again. He is not fragile, but he does not need your judgement and accusations.”

Hermione clenched her jaw and looked away, blinking. It was Ginny who spoke first. “I…I remember what it was like. Being forced to do horrible things, being a pawn in a game that I didn’t understand and couldn’t hope to play. I could never…I wouldn’t…I stand with Harry, not matter what he’s done. I don’t care about that thing on his arm. It was not more his choice than the mark on his forehead.”

Neville nodded. Luna hummed her agreement, smiling dreamily. Cho chewed her lip. “You haven’t really told us what he did. I know I’m here because I’m Hermione’s girlfriend and not because Harry and I were close. One failed kiss and one failed date do not friends make. I get that, but I feel that we can’t really make any sort of informed decision without facts. You haven’t given us that many facts. He took the Mark to get information. He apparently succeeded, because You-Know-Who is dead. But other than that, you’ve told us nothing.”

“And it will stay that way.” Harry’s voice from the doorway was hard and unyielding. They all turned to look at him. The sleeves of his dress shirt were still rolled up, but the Dark Mark was no longer visible on his arm. “I was reluctant to tell you what we have, but I will not detail the atrocities I committed during the war. The only way you will hear those details is if and when I am called to testify before the Wizengamot…or if I am myself tried. I will not indulge your morbid curiosity. I have absolutely no wish to talk about any of it.”

Hermione scowled. “It’s not morbid curiosity, Harry. We’re trying to understand.”

Harry lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “What is there to understand, Hermione? I disappeared, I trained, I took the Mark, I killed him. In that order. It’s a simple sequence of events.” She narrowed her eyes at his flippant answer and he sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to bait you. But there are things I will not discuss with anyone who doesn’t already know about them. If you’d like me to explain the exact information that I required to kill Him and how I obtained it, I will speak to you and to Ron. No one else. Because no one else knows what I was doing.” 

Hermione looked pointedly at Severus, who was scowling at Harry. Harry shook his head. “No, not even Severus knows. I told no one. I will carry the burden of what I know with me until the day I die, but on that day, it will die with me. You two have already been spelled not to speak of it. I know Albus made you take the Wizard’s Oath before I could share anything I learned with you. It was foolish of him to allow it, because it put you in more danger, but I think he thought I needed to talk it out. He would not share it with Severus. I asked specifically, thinking he might know something useful on the topic. Albus forbid me from mentioning it.”

Ron frowned. “But why? If you were…” He made a vague hand gesture that made Neville blush.

Severus looked appalled and Harry laughed. “We didn’t start sleeping together until after Hogwarts closed. Well after. We’d already graduated to researching spells together at that point. We were…allies. I won’t even say we were friends in sixth year.”

“Comrades-in-arms, perhaps?” Severus injected. 

Harry nodded and opened his mouth to continue when a soft knock came at the door. He shot a frown at Severus, who shook his head. He had no idea who would be knocking this late on the first night.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry cut across the room to the door. Placing a hand flat against the wood, he closed his eyes briefly. “Oh.” He smiled and moved to open the door. 

“Harry, is Severus in there with you?” Draco Malfoy’s lazy drawl entered the room before he did. 

“Lovely to see you too, Draco. Do come in why don’t you.” Harry said wryly, as Draco passed him.

Draco threw a smirk at him over his shoulder. He turned back into the room and stopped abruptly. “Ew. Gryffindors.”

Harry rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. Draco’s entrance had lightened the mood. Confusion tended to do that. Harry had a moment of dizzy unreality, contemplating that the fact that he was more comfortable with Draco than all of his old friends combined. Draco, at least, would not condemn him for his past. “Play nice, Draco. Remember, I’m a Gryffindor as well.”

Severus snorted, unable to stop himself. Everyone looked at him. “Yes, something I attempt to forget regularly.”

Harry side-eyed him slyly. “Is that what lets you sleep at night? Telling yourself that I’m a Slytherin?”

Severus glowered back. “You are a Slytherin, Potter. Probably the most Slytherin of us all.” Harry stuck his tongue out and pouted. “The majority of the time, at least.” Some of the tightness in Severus’ posture relaxed. The hunted look had left the back of Harry’s eyes and when he grinned, it appeared genuine.

The rest of the room watched this interplay like a tennis match. “Oh sod off. Draco, you will be nice to the Gryffindors…or at least civil or I will un-key you from my wards. Are we clear?”

Draco looked at Harry pleadingly for a moment, before sighing. “Yes, alright. I’ll be…civil then. I suppose I should say hello.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that is generally the simplistic form of greeting for non-Slytherins.”

Draco stepped further into the room and eyed the group of students. “Hello, you lot. Oh, look. Non-Gryffindors. Excellent.” He smirked when he noticed Luna and Cho. Ron gaped at him. Neville looked bemused, but the rest were too stunned to respond.

Harry sighed. “Did you need me…us for something?”

 

Draco turned back to him and shrugged. “I wanted to know if Sever…um…Professor Snape was going to be speaking with the first years, because they’re all looking like they’re about to drop.”

“Blast.” Everyone turned to stare at Severus. “Yes. I am. If you are remaining, I do not want to hear about any kind of altercation whatsoever. Understood?” He glared around at everyone, including Harry, who arched an eyebrow in return.

Draco nodded and Severus swept out. Harry huffed out a laugh. “At least he doesn’t have far to go. I’m the next corridor over from the Slytherin Common room.”

Draco looked horrified by this comment. “You can’t tell them that! Gryffindors aren’t supposed to know where our common room is!”

Harry laughed, real and full. “Draco, I already told you about the Polyjuice incident. Hermione, Ron, and I have known where your common room is since second year. Get over it.”

Draco sneered and crossed his arms, eyes sweeping over Harry briefly. He started to turn away before he stopped dead and did a double take, staring in shock at Harry’s left forearm. Harry smirked. “Yes, I’ve finally developed a cosmetic spell that actually covers the blasted thing. It’s water-proof and can’t be gotten rid of by a simple finite. I’ll teach it to you sometime, if you like.”

Draco looked back up at him. “Fuck. You genius.” He breathed softly.

Harry grinned, toothy and sharp. “It helped that the magic’s gone out of it, since he’s dead.”

Draco snorted. “Yes, Professor Potter. Please teach me?”

Harry snorted. “Oh shut up, you git.” 

Surprisingly, it was Luna that reminded them that they weren’t alone. “Harry, when did you stop hating Draco? You left that bit out of your story.”

Harry turned, looking bemused and a little wary. After all, interactions among this group were notoriously unpleasant. “Oh…a year ago? Or slightly more?”

Harry conjured another chair and motioned Draco into it. The Slytherin sat and Harry perched next to him on the armrest. He absently swatted away Draco’s attempt to dislodge him, without even registering it. The others watched this interplay closely. “He came to Severus for sanctuary and found me there. We had a screaming row, which Severus was content to sit back and watch, the git. After a couple hours, we both simply gave up.”

“Or our voices gave out from the continual screaming.” Draco pointed out.

“Or that.” Harry confirmed, ruefully. “But, eventually we learned to work together.” 

Hermione’s eyes were narrowed. “Was he involved in your little…” She waved vaguely at him, obviously trying to indicate his time as a Death Eater without saying it. Harry stared at her. If she couldn’t even say it out loud, they were going to have problems going forward. After a moment she relented. “Your time as a D-Death Eater.”

He nodded once. “Yes. Draco bears the Mark too. As you well know. So does Severus. You’ve spent the majority of your evening with three Marked former Death Eaters. “ His voice was hoarse, harsh and unforgiving. Draco reached up and laid a hand on Harry’s thigh, digging his fingers in hard. He knew that tone of voice and it meant nothing good.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to relax. “He helped with the pureblood training, as Severus is a half-blood and doesn’t know all of their traditions. At some point, our working relationship relaxed to the point that we became friends.”

“Speak for yourself, Potter. I still hate you.” It was a mere shadow of the Slytherin’s old venomous tones. 

Harry’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Severus said the same not three hours ago.”

Draco laughed. “Well, that’s clearly a lie. Although, I slept with you when we still sort of hated each other, so maybe the sex isn’t fair evidence.”

Harry rolled his eyes so hard he thought he might have sprained something. “Draco, most people don’t have hate sex.”

“We did.” The Slytherin pointed out. 

Harry shrugged. “Point.”

“You slept with Malfoy???” Ron’s voice was somewhere short of a bellow and colored heavily with disgust. He looked a bit green and clung to Luna like a lifeline.

Harry frowned at him. “You have no problem with my sleeping with Severus, but Draco is right out? In what world does that make sense?”

“It’s Malfoy!” 

Harry couldn’t stop the helpless laugh that bubbled up, if he’d tried. Trust Ron to put things into perspective. 

“Ronald! Honestly, him sleeping with Malfoy is the least of our concerns here. Don’t you think pledging himself to Voldemort is the worse offense?” Hermione’s voice was barbed, directed not at Ron, but at Harry. She was watching him, waiting for a reaction of some kind. 

Was she looking for guilt? For contrition? She was going to be sorely disappointed. He’d learned to hide the guilt a long time ago and he did not feel the least bit contrite. He stared back at her, meeting her eyes. She clearly did not see what she was looking for because her eyes narrowed.

“But it’s Malfoy!” Ron wailed. Everyone blinked and turned to look at him.

Draco was incredulous. “Seriously, Weasley? Sleeping with me is worse than pledging to the Dark Lord?”

Ron just gestured ineffectually at the Slytherin. 

Ginny sat up. “That’s it!” 

They turned to her. Harry arched an eyebrow. “What’s it, Ginny?”

“There was something wrong with the way you talk. I mean more than the fact that you sound like a pureblood. You, all three of you, you keep referring to Him as the Dark Lord. Not You-Know-Who or Voldemort. You call Him the Dark Lord.”

Harry felt an inexplicable chill sweep down his spine. Something so small, but an indicator of a vast change. Of course Ginny noticed, when he himself no longer did. “Yes. We do.”

Ginny cocked her head. Her expression was curious and maybe a little guarded, but did not seem nearly as hostile as Hermione. “Why?”

Harry blinked. “Why?” He glanced down at Draco. The blonde stared back, understanding and helpless. Harry swallowed and looked back at her. “Because that is who he was. Because it was an indication of a certain mindset. Because I can barely bring myself to call him anything else. Because saying his name is…” He looked away for a moment.

“It recalls an echo of pain.” Draco finished his thought for him. He slipped his hand over Draco’s still resting on his thigh and squeezed.

Ginny frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by any of that? Mindset? An echo of pain?”

Harry picked back up. “When you are first brought before him, the Dark Lord orders you to say his name. Just once, to prove to him that you know who you are dealing with. So you comply, but…No one is ever allowed to say his name aloud in his presence. So he casts a Crucio on you, to help you remember never to disrespect him again. Any time you say his name after, it comes with a ghost of a Cruciatus Curse. So you learn to call him something else, but you can’t call him You-Know-Who because that’s for light wizards and scared civilians. So you call him the Dark Lord. Because you are a loyal follower. It reminds you who you are, what you have pledged, where you stand. But more than that even…”

Draco continued for him. “More than that, it was who he was. If Dumbledore was Light Lord, and he certainly was, than…Voldemort was a Dark Lord. He was…more powerful than most of us can even imagine and to his very soul he was corrupt, charred by what he’d done and what he believed and what he wanted. He took joy in…torture and death. So, beyond helping you remember who you were, it also served to remind us, Harry and Severus and I, who he was. Why we were risking our lives. Because he was the Dark Lord. Because Harry was the only one with a whisper of a pray of defeating him. Because for as much power as the Dark Lord had, Harry has more.”

There was a moment or two of silence, before Hermione exhaled audibly. Harry turned to look at her. Her eyes were wet and some of the tension had gone from her shoulders. “You never wanted to, did you, Harry?”

His face went blank. Draco squeezed the hand that was still entwined with his. His jaw clenched briefly before Harry forced his body to relax. “No, Hermione. I didn’t.”

Draco leaned around him to glare at her. “Did you think he did? Are you a moron? This is Harry Potter we’re talking about, remember? Defender of innocents? Hero-complex the size of Britain? Inferiority complex the size of bloody America? Rescuer of everyone? We are talking about the same man, aren’t we?”

She blinked at him and twitched. “You’re right.” She looked back up at Harry. “Harry, I’m sorry. I know you. I’ve known you for years. You may speak differently and carry yourself better, but you’re still you. I should have remembered that.”

Harry felt briefly like a puppet with all its strings cut, loose and clumsy and aimless. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? But somehow, it could. Hermione stood, slipping out of Cho’s soft embrace, and hugged him, murmuring apologies into his neck. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, but refused to relinquish Draco’s hand. The blonde’s mouth curled into a secret smile at that. 

Ron looked a little green when he noticed this. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Severus’ return. At the sound of the door, Hermione stepped back and wiped her eyes.

Severus took in the scene, cataloging, before his gaze seemed to fix on Harry and Draco’s entwined fingers resting on Harry’s thigh. His jaw worked a moment, before he looked away. Draco noticed and filed the reaction away to examine later.

“How are the dunderheads, then?” Harry asked, smirking.

Hermione swatted him on the back of the head. “You shouldn’t refer to the first years like that, Harry. It’s rude!”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. “I can refer to the first years however I want, Hermione. Severus always does.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, but he’s…Oh my god. You’re going to be our teacher!” She looked horrified. “We’ve been talking about your sex life and you’re going to be our teacher!”

Her voice had climbed to nearly a shriek and most of the rest of them burst into laughter. Severus, though, narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been discussing his sex life?”

Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth, blushing bright red.

“He was telling about his previous partners.” Fred said cheerfully, the edge back in his eyes. 

Which wasn’t a lie, but was no less misleading for that. Severus shifted from one foot to the other, jaw clenching. The movement was subtle, but Harry noticed because Severus never fidgeted. They’d been spies; they couldn’t afford vulnerabilities like that. To say it was unusual would be to sell the thing short. It put Harry on edge. Severus had, on occasion, been known to risk bleeding to death rather than show unease. This outward display triggered a protective instinct that had saved their lives more than once. One that tended toward unthinking violence.

Fred was eyeing the Potion’s Master with thinly veiled satisfaction. Harry could feel the shift in his own posture. He could almost feel the Mark seething, almost see the revels and meetings, almost taste the destruction on the air. “Do we have a problem, Fred?”

The twin turned to him with what he obviously thought was an innocent smile. He didn’t understand the danger he was in. “What do you mean, Har?”

Harry tilted his head, a small smile curling across his mouth and vanishing. Things around him were going sharp and colors seemed hyper-saturated. It was a completely different feeling from what he’d been feeling earlier. There was no magic crawling across his skin; he was, in fact, in absolute control.

Draco glanced up at him and flinched. “Harry.”

Harry shook off Draco’s still-clinging hand and stood. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Fred blinked at the silky tone in Harry’s voice, frowning. “Nah, mate. I don’t think I do.”

The twin was sitting a scant two or three paces from Harry. He closed the gap. “Would you like to try that again? Fred, I asked if we were going to have a problem.”

Fred finally seemed to realize how much danger he was in. His gaze darted around, taking in Draco’s held breath, Severus’ unmoving position on the far side of the room, the stark fear in Hermione’s expression. He swallowed, throat clicking. “N-no. No, Harry, we don’t have a problem.”

Harry smiled again. “You’re lying to me.” Harry shifted on his feet, a deliberate movement that brought him that little bit closer to Fred. Both twins pressed back against the couch. George was watching the exchange, clearly worried. “You’re lying to me and that? That is not a good idea. You are deliberately baiting him. Why?”

Fred’s jaw worked for a moment, as though he were contemplating belligerence, before his whole body slumped in defeat. “I…Do you remember…The last Quidditch game, your sixth year? George and I came to see it and to the party after. You and I…”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “We fucked. And?”

Fred took a breath. “It was a one-time thing. I know. I get it. I knew it at the time too. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how good we were together. How much fun we could have. And you disappeared and we thought you were dead for a bit, but then you’d show up to battles and to the War Councils, but you never spoke to any of us, only the proper members of the Order. You barely even looked at me. Was it…Was I so bad that you’d rather take up with him? Malfoy, I understand. I’ve got eyes, even if he is a twat. But Snape? He’s old enough to be your father, Harry.” Fred snaps him mouth shut and exhales through his nose. “You couldn’t spare me the time of day and we’ve been friends for years, but you’d let your Potions teacher fuck you after spending nearly the entire time you’ve been at Hogwarts hating each other.”

Harry blinked and everything stopped. It was like being doused with ice water. He stepped back. “You’re…jealous?” He glanced helplessly back at Severus, who was watching him with dark eyes and a blank face. Harry turned back and shook his head. “Fred, look. There was never anything like that between you and I. It was never going to be more than a post-game shag. I thought you knew that. You’re the one who said it to begin with. And as to the rest, I had a job to do. I barely had time to sleep, never mind anything else. And spending time with you, any of you, even the Order, made going back that much harder. Being…what I was made going to Headquarters that much harder too. I was fighting to be two different people. I hadn’t quite figured out how to integrate the two inside my head yet. Navigating that was…brutal. Being in that house tore me apart. I couldn’t stand to be there any longer than I absolutely had to. It felt…every moment like I might crawl out of my skin. Like I could snap and kill everyone in the house in a heartbeat or shatter into a thousand pieces and never be able to put myself back together.” 

Harry closed his eyes, trying to banish the ghost of those feelings back to wherever it had emerged from. He felt a hand wrap around his wrist, callused palm and fingertips skimming gently across his skin. He knew the pattern of those calluses almost as well as he knew his own hands. Severus stepped up behind him and Harry leaned back, pressing into the other man’s warmth. He opened his eyes and looked down at Fred, who was staring back with a mix of horror and anger on his face. “The jealous is your problem. It’s nothing you can blame on Severus and you have no right to punish him for it. If you want to take it out on someone, I’m right here. You were a close friend, never anything more than that, and I never indicated to you that I would be willing to take it beyond what happened. I was never interested in you that way. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth.” 

Fred offered him a pained smile. “I’m not Slytherin enough for you?” It was clearly meant to be a joke, but it fell flat.

Harry sighed. “No. You're not powerful enough.”

Harry could nearly feel the others bristle. Draco, of course, was nodding. Hermione and the twins looked offended. Everyone else seemed confused.

Severus slipped an arm around Harry’s waist, anchoring him. The coiled tension that had come from his slip toward violence loosened at little. 

“What the fuck does that mean? I’m not powerful enough?” Fred was scowling now.

Harry watched him for a moment, marshaling his thoughts. “How do I explain this… I have more magic at my disposal than any other person on this earth right now. Do you understand that?” Fred made a gesture as though to flick the words away. “No. This is important. Do you understand how much magic is inside me? I have enough magic to bring down this entire castle with a flick of my wand. I have enough magic to apparate from here to the moon. That shouldn’t even be possible, but I’ve done it. I don’t even know what the limits of my power are. Do you understand that?”

Fred’s expression had slipped away from anger toward unease. “Alright.”

“That wealth of magic response to my emotions. If I don’t keep it under strict control all the time…You’ve seen my wild magic. It doesn’t come from the same place as the accidental magic witches and wizards perform as children. That is an instinctual response. This is an emotional overflow. The things that happen when I get angry are not accidental, but they’re also not under my control. The magic acts on its own. Severus can stop it. You saw him do that earlier. Even if he never touched me again, never said another kind word to me, I would still stay as close to him as I could…for a wide variety of reasons, but in small part because it’s safer for everyone if I do.”

Fred blinked, frowning incredulously. “So you let him fuck you so he’d help you control your magic?”

Harry sighed. “No. I let him fuck me because I wanted his cock up my arse. You didn’t ask why I wanted Severus. You asked why I never wanted to date you. Part of the reason is instinctual. I don’t feel safe with you, not because I think you’d hurt me, but because my magic doesn’t see you as a threat. Or…not a threat. More like…Horses can sense an unskilled rider and a temperamental animal will take advantage of that. Think of it that way. My magic sees you…all of you, actually, like a horse thinks of an unskilled rider. None of you are powerful enough to tame it, should things go awry. It doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive. It doesn't mean that I couldn’t date you or even fall in love with you. It just makes all of that more difficult, because I don’t feel safe. There is…an extra layer to a relationship for me, knowing that the person I am with can stop me if…well, if I got out of control.” Harry looked around at them all. Ron still looked a little confused. Ginny just looked sad. 

Interestingly, Neville seemed to have found a new respect for Severus, because he was looking at the man like he’d never seen him before. Harry leaned back on Severus a little more heavily. “You saw Draco try, earlier. Twice actually. Once he succeeded. Once he failed. Which had more to do with the level of my own control than anything else.”

“No one else even attempted to shut Harry down.” Severus’ voice was sharp. “You were afraid. Because Harry is dangerous. Exceptionally dangerous. He was in service to the Dark Lord for over a year. That does not simply go away, no matter how much we might wish it. You are jealous over the affections of the boy you knew, not the man in front of you. Could you stand to be with a Death Eater? Could you strip him and not flinch at the sight of the Mark? Or the scars? Would you not lay awake at night, wondering what he’d done? How much blood was on the hands he touched you with? Could you separate him from his past? At first, perhaps. But having an ex-Death Eater for a lover is not so easy. You watched me anticipate his reaction at the Head Table tonight. I knew he would draw on you, before he did. Could you do that? Could you let him withdraw when the memories get overwhelming, without asking questions? Could you handle the minefield of triggers that a soldier carries home from war?” 

Fred was staring. They all were. Harry bowed his head, trying not to listen to Severus list the reasons he no longer wanted Harry in his bed. Harry swallowed, his throat tight.

Severus went on. “What about the nightmares? Though, I suppose they’d be more properly called night terrors. When he wakes up screaming? Could you handle seeing him like that? For how long? How long could you handle it before you got sick of it? Before it was all too much? And those are just the result of the more recent trauma. We’re ignoring his childhood entirely, which comes with its own list of issues.” Severus narrowed his eyes at Fred. “You accused me of taking advantage. You accused me of making excuses in order to justify sleeping with him. Fine. In turn, I am accusing you of being selfish. I am accusing you of demanding that which you do not understand and cannot want. You want who he was. You don’t know who he is.”

This was more than Harry could handle. He stepped stiffly from Severus’ loose embrace. His hands were curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He was not about to let them see. He could hold it together until they left. He could. “We’re done. It’s time for you all to leave. If you have more questions, come back tomorrow. I’m coming back here after lunch to work on lessons, so knock at the picture frame. Until then, I need you to leave.” His eyes burned and his throat clicked when he swallowed. Severus moved away, toward the door again. Harry clenched his jaw, refusing to cry. He wouldn’t give Severus the satisfaction.

The bastard stood there, wrapped around him like a lover, and listed a litany of defects, his voice like silk; Harry wanted to hate him. He wanted to turn around and claw through Severus’ chest to see if there was heart somewhere inside it. Which wasn’t fair because Harry knew that Severus had a heart. The man had more heart than almost anyone Harry had met and Harry loved him. It was a fierce, burning thing inside him. It twisted him up and mixed itself with despair. It hurt.

The one thing left of his innocence, the one vestige of his life before the War, was a childish wish that love wouldn’t hurt. He was a fool.

Fred bolted, as soon as the words left Harry’s mouth, George following at a calmer pace. The rest filed out behind. Hermione reached out for him when she stood, but he flinched and she dropped her hands. Ginny brushed against his arm when she passed him. 

Draco, mimicking Severus from earlier, stood and wrapped a hand around Harry’s wrist. Harry shook his head sharply, wrenching his arm away, and Draco raised his hands in surrender. Harry listened as the blond left, closing the door behind him. 

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t turn to see the empty room. He didn’t take the two steps that would bring him to the couch or back up to the armchair. He simply collapsed, siding to the floor. He brought his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around his head.

The tears were hot with shame when they finally fell a moment later. He knew he had no right to demand anything from Severus, but he had at least expected a little kindness in this. They were friends, weren’t they? Comrades-in-arms, Severus had said. Didn’t that merit even a thought? But no, of course it didn’t. This was his problem to deal with. Like he’d said to Fred, his emotions were his own and it was no fault of Severus’ that they were unwanted.

He flinched hard when a hand landed on his neck and jerked around. Severus was standing over him. Harry hadn’t checked to make sure he’d left, just assumed he’d gone out the door with the others. He choked on a sob and scrambled back away from him.

“Harry…?” Severus’ voice was tight now, with concern and confusion.

“Leave.” He managed to force the words out. “Please, leave. I can’t do this right now.”

Severus inhaled sharply, his jaw working for a moment. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to cause you pain.”

Harry gaped at him for a moment, before laughing, sharp and bitter. “You didn’t intend to cause me pain? What did you think would happen, standing there reciting a laundry list of all the reasons you don’t want me?” He came up on his knees and glared at Severus. “I’m surprised you stopped there. Didn’t get any more personal. What else would you add to that list, hmm? Oh, Fred, you don’t want him because he’s too high maintenance. You don’t want him because he’s really only good for a quick fuck to relieve the tension. You don’t want him because he’s almost as bad as you are at taking a hint. You don’t want him because he’s perverted, sick in the head. You don’t want him because someday he’ll snap and kill us all or maybe just himself. You don’t…” The tears were coming so hard now, it was difficult for Harry to speak. “You don’t want him because he doesn’t deserve to be loved after all the things he’s done. You don’t…you don’t…”

“Harry—“

“No!” Harry swallowed and lurched to his feet. “No! I can’t…I don’t want to hear it. I get it. You don’t want me. Maybe you never really did. Maybe all you wanted was a warm body in your bed. Well, I’m good for that at least, but I don’t need you to tell me again. The war is done and you have options now. I remember the first time you said it. We’re over. I understand that. It just…hurt more than I was anticipating. So please, just go.”

“Harry, you—“

“Go!” It was a desperate shout and he could feel the wild magic beginning to crackle along his skin this time. “Go. Please go. Please leave. Please.”

Severus nodded once, jaw tight, and left. His movements were uncoordinated and jerky. The door swung shut behind him with a crash of wood on stone.

Harry stood, breathing and crying and trying to get a handle on his magic, for a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is exceptionally long, but there was no natural break in it. Because of the extra length (it's really more a chapter and a half or slightly more), I'm going to hold for on the next post for an extra day or two (because I am writing while i post and I'm trying to stay at least one section ahead of things).
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate it and any feedback you're willing to offer!

When Harry dragged himself out of bed for breakfast the next morning, his skull pounded and his eyes felt gritty with dried tears. He was stiff all over and his knees, in particular, ached. It had taken him hours to scrounge up the energy to go to bed properly; hours that he had spent, first kneeling and then curled into a ball, on the stone floor of his living room. Severus’ word flexed and merged and danced around one another until Harry had heard echoes of his speech to Fred overlaying things Severus had said at the Dark Revels and doubled back in the Dark Lord’s voice. It all jumbled together in a snarled mess and Harry didn’t have the energy to shut it all out. All of it, every thing Severus had ever said to him, was burned into Harry’s skin, nearly as deep as the Mark and certainly more agonizing. 

A shower fixed the gritty feeling and a glamour fixed his face. There was nothing to be done for the gaping maw that lived inside him. He wondered idly if this was what dying felt like. Then he remembered the graveyard and he remembered the dementors by the lake and he realized that no, this was worse. 

Severus and Minerva were both seated when he came in. He’d never seen the Great Hall so full on a Saturday morning, especially the first Saturday back. They were all awake and present, of course, because of his little press appointment. Not that it mattered. He didn’t particularly care how many people were present. Nothing would change his answers to the questions he knew were coming and after his time in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, performance anxiety was a distant memory.

Harry stopped by the seat next to Severus that he’d occupied the night before. He glanced down and waited until Severus snorted. The man turned to look at him, expression flat and empty, but he waved Harry into the chair anyway. 

Minerva was talking to Aurora again, looking sleepy and annoyed, but she offered him a perfunctory greeting anyway.

Harry sat. Harry ate. Harry did not speak. To Severus or anyone else, not that anyone seemed inclined to speak to him. It was better that way, he decided. He’d be doing enough talking this morning as it was. 

When Harry finally braved a glance to his right, Severus was rigid in his seat, posture better than it had been since the Dark Lord’s demise. He was leaning ever-so-slightly away from Harry and the gaping maw inside Harry’s chest grew a little bit deeper. After his little outburst, it seemed that Severus not only no longer wished to be friends, which Harry had suspected and feared, but he no longer even wished to tolerate Harry’s presence. That was an outcome he’d not actually considered. 

Harry swallowed whatever had been in his mouth. It scraped down his throat and settled queasily in his stomach. He couldn’t have told you what it was, since he didn’t remember what he’d put on his plate. 

Severus’ reaction was understandable, if Harry thought about it. If he thought Fred was a crying mess over him, Harry would probably have wanted some distance between them. Maybe. Probably.

Severus and he had spent years living inside each other’s pockets. Even after the war ended, they hadn’t seemed to remember how to exist without constant contact. Now that Severus knew where Harry’s need had stemmed from…

He wondered if he could salvage their friendship or if there was anything at all left to be salvaged on Severus’ end of things. Severus understood him better than anyone. Just thinking about Severus cutting ties made Harry’s breath try to shorten and his ribs ache. 

Loneliness was something Harry was intimately familiar with, but isolation was still relatively new. As a child, he hadn’t known about the magic, so he’d never felt so great a distance between himself and his peers. He’d had friends in elementary school, few and far between though they were thanks to Dudley’s gang. When he’d gotten to Hogwarts, there had always been Hermione and Ron. Even during the lead-up to the Triward, he’d had Hermione and Hagrid. He’d never been entirely alone.

Now…

Hagrid was dead. Hermione and Ron and the rest of them seemed so far out of reach. They were children and they were wary of him. To his fellow teachers, he was still a boy and ought by right to be a student. To his students, he was the Great Harry Potter, Hero of the War, or he was their former peer who may or may not have delusions of grandeur. Draco tried and probably came closer than almost anyone to understanding what he’d gone through, but even Draco would be forced to keep a certain distance; he was still a student. 

Only Severus knew. Only Severus understood. Only Severus had the power to crack open his chest and hollow everything out like he had. Harry couldn’t even seem to regret giving him that power. It was not Severus’ fault that Harry was such a disaster of a person, irreparably broken. Harry knew that he’d probably never heal from the wounds that war left him with. He’d never find all his missing pieces. With Severus, he’d thought perhaps it wouldn’t matter, but obviously he’d been very wrong indeed. 

He sighed and stood with the rest of the faculty when the breakfast dishes vanished. He moved aside, to let Minerva do as she wished with the room’s set-up. It hardly mattered. 

As the tables were cleared to make room for the press and the podium was set up for him to speak from, Draco appeared out of the crowd. Harry offered him a wan smile. 

“Harry, your glamour is slipping.” Draco’s face had settled into his usual bored smirk, but there was concern in his eyes and his fingers twitched. 

Harry sighed, turning his back to the room to recast the glamour. “Long night.” 

Standing exposed with a crowd at his back had all of Harry’s instincts screaming, even with Draco at his side. He turned back around, trying to fight the urge to press his back to a wall, and pretended to care who had decided to attend. One particular dark head was absent now.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “What happened after we left? I know Severus stayed behind. He seemed worried. You seemed…on the edge of something.”

Harry’s posture went stiff, but the smile on his mouth did not waver. “Something…yeah. A breakdown. I yelled at him a bit and he left. It’s fine. He’s not speaking to me. And he left right after breakfast.”

Draco’s brow beetled. “No. No, he didn’t. He’s standing just inside the doors, watching the crowds gather. He’s…Harry…” The blond gestured.

Now that he knew where to look, Harry could see Severus’ familiar shape. He…Harry squinted. Severus seemed to be evaluating the crowd. Something about the lines of his body tickled a memory. “Is he…?”

“Watching? Listening? Keeping a mental list of the easiest ways to neutral each possible threat? That’s certainly what it looks like. I’d assume he also knows exactly how to block the exits and who can be counted on as backup should the need arise. In fact, probably the only reason he’s over there doing that is because I’m over here. You’ve got a Left Hand to shield you while your Right Hand does his job. You didn’t ask…”

Harry turned to look at him, obvious horror written clear on his face for a brief moment. 

“I guess that answers that question.”

“Why? Why would he be doing that? I’m not…I never… _I wouldn’t._ ”

“I’d suggest that it’s merely long engrained habit, but Severus was never the Dark Lord’s Right Hand. That was Father, even from the beginning…nor was Severus his Left Hand, obviously. He was always the Dark Lord’s eyes. Do you think that makes him nearsighted?”

Harry swallowed the bile that was threatening his composure. “Draco…”

The blond stepped forward, very aware of what this would look like to the various students and faculty assembled in the room, to say nothing of the press. He reached up and laid a hand on the back of Harry’s neck, squeezing and forcing Harry to meet his gaze. His other hand circled Harry’s wrist. “Look, Harry. There is nothing you can do about his behavior. I know that you would never…” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to end the sentence and unable to gesture without letting Harry go. “You know that. Severus certainly knows that. I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing, but things will work out. Between you. Things will be fine. We didn’t…do what we did, for it not to be. And even if you’re never…what you were during the war, you will always be the closest of friends. I don’t think one argument will get in the way of that. And if it does, let me know and I’ll add itching powder in that protective oil he uses in his hair when he’s brewing.”

This unexpected offer drew a genuine laugh from Harry. It bubbled up helplessly and loosened the muscles of his torso, so that he could breathe freely again. So much for the distance forced by their positions. He smiled, a small secret thing. “Thank you, Dray. I…thanks.” Harry breathed for a single moment, feeling the pressure of Draco’s hand against his neck and the steady press of Draco’s fingers against his pulse. Then he straightened his spine and pulled away. “Time for a press conference, I suppose.”

Draco shrugged, one-shouldered. “This was your idea so you’ve only yourself to blame for it. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”

Harry huffed and his smile slide into a smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Minerva came up along side and paused. “I believe your stage awaits. Is anything amiss, Harry?”

Harry shook his head, his gaze automatically seeking Severus out in the crowd. The man’s face was blank and he was pointedly looking away from where Harry stood with Draco. “Everything is fine, Minerva. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Her lips twitched, but it didn’t unsettle her stern expression. “No trouble at all, considering the entire Board of Governors and the Minister himself are in attendance today. You will, no doubt, have to address them both. There is one particular woman who is…not your biggest fan, let’s say.”

Harry sighed, having anticipated this. “After I feed myself to the sharks, I’ll make sure there’s some left for the wolves.”

She snorted and he turned away to take his place behind the podium. He took a breath and shook out his hands briefly, before letting himself settle into his role. Today, he was Harry Potter, the man who had saved the Wizarding World. His posture shifted and he ran a hand through his hair. This felt like becoming Marcel The Death Eater. It felt like shedding his skin and wrapping himself in another. 

He needed to remember to call the Dark Lord by his name. That would be the hardest thing. The rumors leftover from the war were bad enough. He couldn’t afford to add fuel to that fire. The press would have his head on a pike and the conspiracy theories would dog him for months. He breathed again and smiled.

Casting a small sonorous charm to amplify his voice, he leaned forward and turned that smile on the press block. “I want to thank you all for coming today. I realize this is a bit unusual, hosting a press event at Hogwarts, and I wanted to thank the Headmistress for her support and kindness in this, as in all things.” He paused for a moment. “We are here today because you have questions for me and I think it’s high time I answered what I can. We are here, in particular, because I will be teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year and the students deserve a chance to ask questions as well.” The press were all huddled near the front. Most had memo quills, but he spied a green feather or two among them. He fought not to scowl and mostly succeeded. “I would ask that you refrain from using a Quick Quotes Quill. Any misrepresentation of what I say here today or what happens here today will be met with firm action from my solicitors.” 

A murmur went through the crowd at this, but he couldn’t tell from its cadence whether it was positive or negative. He’d never threaten the press with legal action before. Blackmailed them? Sure. There was irony in that somewhere. Not that it should be surprising, he thought snidely. He was a Death Eater after all.

A hand went up. The woman raising it was tall and willowy, with rich mocha skin and hair piled up on the top of her head. She was watching him sharply. He didn’t know what paper she was from.

“Iris Cattermole, Mr. Potter, from _The Magical Gazette._ Where have you been these past two years?” She asked, cutting right to the chase and sidestepping all his preparations. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, biting down on his immediate impulse, which was to sneer, and gave her a non-answer. “Winning the war.”

The reporter snorted, her eyes narrowed, clearly not impressed. “There were rumors that you were seen on site at certain battles. That you’d fight and then vanish, but there has never been any solid proof, since none of the major players have gone on trial yet. There were rumors that you’d died, that you’d been taken, that you’d converted to You-Know-Who’s side…You’ve been a ghost since Hogwarts closed. I think the people deserve more than ‘winning the war’ as an answer.” 

A smile curled at the edge of Harry’s mouth. “Have you ever noticed, Ms. Cattermole, that reporters only ever think of what the people deserve when they need leverage or it suits their bottom line?” He paused, watching her with ice in his eyes. She didn’t even open her mouth to attempt a reply, but she did incline her head. “Much of my war experience will never see the light of day. There are things that I know…things that I learned about Voldemort that I will never tell anyone. I don’t care what you think the people deserve. I don’t care what anyone demands. Merlin himself could rise from the grave and demand I tell him what I know and I would refuse. However, I will, in a limited capacity, attempt to answer specific questions about the war.”

Cattermole scowled rather fiercely at this. “And the rumors?”

“I was never taken. I did fight in many battles. There was so much to do that staying afterwards was never an option. As to the rest? Don’t be ridiculous.” Harry sidestepped lying with an ease that he never possessed before the war. He considered idly that his life was now divided, the closing of Hogwarts acting as a barrier between what came before and what came after. He dismissed the thought; it was both unnecessary and distracting. 

He didn’t dare look at the group clustered in the far left corner of the room. Could he still call them friends? He supposed so. He didn’t trust how they’d react, not with everyone watching, and he couldn’t risk calling attention to them.

A hand went up in the back of the press block. Harry nodded and waited for the person to stand. It was Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna’s father. Harry blinked, not having realized he’d be here today. He jolted, a flare of panic running down his spine at the thought that Luna might tell her father what she’d heard the night before. The smile stayed on his lips and none of the panic could be seen on his face, but he sent a sharp glance at Severus. The man caught his eye this time and his eyebrows twitched in confusion. 

“Mr. Lovegood, so good to see you again.”

Understanding broke over Severus’ face and he faded into the crowd that filled the hall, no doubt winding his way to Luna. Xenophilius smiled that broad, vaguely manic smile that seemed to be his resting face. “Mr. Potter! I was so pleased to hear that you’d returned. My Luna speaks so well of you. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what happened to you during the Battle of Hogwarts? No one seems to quite know.”

Harry exhaled. An answerable question that didn’t involve conspiracies, real or imaginary, was something of a surprise coming from the editor of _The Quibbler_. Maybe that was unkind, but Harry didn't claim to be nice, especially after so long in Severus’ company. “I’m not entirely sure what happened, if I’m honest. I’d been outside, enjoying the late fall weather with friends, when the Death Eaters attacked the wards. We all watched together, waiting, as they broke through. There was nothing else we could do. It took them about fifteen minutes to break through. I’d already sent a message to the Headmaster at that point and the faculty and students had been alerted. When the wards did go down, my friends and I were the first line of defense because we were the first ones there. The faculty and some of the older students joined in soon after. I found out later that a couple of the staff, including Charity Burbage, stayed behind to evacuate the rest of the student body. Charity was killed in the fighting that later that same day, protecting her school instead of fleeing with the students. I’d never taken Muggle Studies, since I was Muggle raised, but Professor Burbage had a reputation for being kind. She died a hero. I’ve noticed recently that those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts tend to be overlooked, given the…violence that followed, but the people who were killed that day died in service to this school and its children. I am proud to have known them.”

Harry paused and let his words register with his audience. There was a moment of utter silence in the room. Harry could feel the specters of the dead crowding into the room with him. The ghostly overlay from the night before threatened at the edges of his vision and he suddenly could not stand the hush in the room. The war had created enough silence.

“When Voldemort arrived,” he finally continued, voice subdued and smile turned sad. “I realized that something more drastic had to be done. I’d been trying to find Headmaster Dumbledore in the fray, but Voldemort found him first. He cut down the Headmaster with…so little effort that I knew…or thought I knew, that he couldn’t be killed by simple magic. That was both true and false, as it turned out. But seeing Albus die…I think I went a little mad. I was convinced that the Sword of Gryffindor could kill him. I went back into the school, because I knew that Albus kept it in his office. I thought I would get it and try to get Fawkes to take me back to the battle so I could kill Voldemort with it. I knew he’d be looking for me next so finding him again wouldn’t have been too difficult. Only, that didn’t happen. Somehow, Hogwarts sealed itself instead. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but I was still inside when the spell was triggered. I could feel it come down around me, living inside the very stones of the castle. Everything sort of…pulsed. Like the castle itself could breathe. And there was a wave of light, before everything went black. All the windows went opaque and all the candles guttered. I cast a lumos and tried to find a way out. I couldn’t hear what was happening outside. None of the windows would open. It wasn’t until later that I learned who had fallen and how the battle ended.”

Xenophilius tilted his head, smile not diminished in the slightest. “How did you escape?”

Harry’s own smile grew a bit wider for a moment. “As I’m sure everyone remembers, I’m a parselmouth. I figured if there was any way to get out of Hogwarts that I didn’t already know about and hadn’t already tried, it would be hidden in Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. So I went down into the Chamber and searched for a passage, a door, some way outside. Eventually, I found one. A passage, which I learned later when I tried to get back into the castle, is only accessible from the inside. The entrance vanishes once you pass through it. It doesn’t even leave a magical signature to let you know it was there. It left me far on the other side of the Forbidden Forest, passed the Acromantula nests and the territory claimed by the centaurs to an area I’d never been before.”

Luna’s father opened his mouth to speak again, but another voice from the press block called, “And where did you go? Where did you vanish to?”

Harry pressed his lips together, wanting to ignore the question, but Xenophilius nodded encouragingly at him. “To a friend. I needed time to figure out what to do. I need to train. I was a sixteen year old child without the experience or knowledge necessary to do what needed to be done and I was sick to death of it. So I went where I knew I could remedy that. I will not name that friend, who deserves better than to be forced into the public eye because of me. There are still Death Eaters at large.”

Which worked as a nice topic change. Xenophilius slipped back into his chair and Rita Skeeter shot to her feet in the front row. Harry tried to stop himself from scowling at her. He wasn’t sure how much he succeeded. The woman was nearly as loathsome as Umbridge. “Harry, what are you planning on doing about that? These Death Eaters roaming free, endangering people.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “I am planning to do what I always do, Rita.” He said her name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. A couple of the reporters nearest to the podium grinned at him. “That is, whatever needs to be done about it. But there is little I can do at the moment. The whereabouts of Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Paschal Nott, and the others is still unknown and I have classes to teach. A full course load of Defense classes and second year Transfiguration.”

Skeeter narrowed her eyes. “Surely that’s not all? You’ll do whatever needs to be done? That tells us very little, Harry.”

Her use of his name, as always, was incredibly condescending. Harry smiled, grinding his teeth. “That _is_ all, Rita. My dear, surely you understand that we have a very competent Department of Magical Law Enforcement, full of highly trained Aurors for this. If they require my assistance at any stage, I will be happy to give it. For the moment, I will leave them alone to do their jobs. And I shall do mine.”

She looked like she swallowed an entire box of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans. Harry’s expression didn’t change, though his sharp gaze took on a satisfied spark. Another reporter stood, forcing Skeeter to sit. “Harold Figg, _Hogsmeade Tribune_. Mr. Potter, what makes you qualified to teach at this school? By rights, you should be a student here.”

Harry nodded, having expected this particular question. “The training I received to prepare me for the Final Battle and indeed the entire war took me far beyond the Hogwarts curriculum in most, if not all, key subjects. Because of that, I arranged to take my NEWTs at the beginning of the summer, a few weeks after I killed Voldemort. My scores are a matter of public record, but I will tell you that I passed all subjects with an O. After this, Minerva…Headmistress McGonagal approached me about teaching here and convinced me to sit for my Mastery in Defense. I considered her offer and finally decided that I could do more good here, teaching and being available to the students who would need help, than entering politics which was my original plan.” Harry could almost feel Cornelius Fudge’s relief from across the room. Well, he thought with a suppressed smirk, enjoy it while you can because I won’t be teaching here forever. “So I sat three Masteries: the Dark Arts, Defense, and Enchantments. Which qualify me both to teach my own subject and to help the Headmistress cover her Transfiguration classes until such a time as a replacement is found.”

Figg smiled at him, indulgently. “For our readers who don’t know, could you explain what a Mastery in Enchantments entails?”

Harry ducked his head, knowing that the action made him look young and embarrassed. “Sorry. Of course. Enchantments is a subject not taught at Hogwarts, though Durmstrang does offer it. It’s a combination of Charms and Transfiguration that is most often used by duelists. It’s considered its own discipline mostly because it requires a different pattern of thought and a different set of reflexes than either subject on their own.”

Iris Cattermole stood again, looking like a Nifler that had spotted gold. “Mr. Potter, you never actually described what you did during those two years you were missing. I don’t mean to harp, but what happened during the war?”

Harry’s smile dropped and his face went blank. A murmur went through the crowd. “I fought. I killed Death Eaters. I eventually killed Voldemort. I trained and I planned and I accomplished goals that weakened the D-eath Eaters…” Silently, he cursed himself for his near miss. He tried to settle himself deeper into his role, but instead he could feel his heart rate spike and his stomach twist. He was losing it. He could feel the role slipping away. “That is what I did during the war.”

The woman scowled. It was quite a lovely look on her. “That is hardly an answer.”

Harry shrugged, pushing passed the racing of his heart. “There is nothing more I can or will say on the matter. Should I be called upon to testify before the Wizengamot, you may learn more. For now? That is all I will say. The war may have ended, but the danger hasn’t passed. Not until the remainder of Voldemort’s inner circle have been captured. When they are safely in Azkaban and have no chance of building a movement or an army on the back of their Lord’s reputation and their own madness and money, then I will be willing to share more of what I did.”

The woman finally seemed satisfied with this, but not everyone was. He dodged two more variants on the same theme. With each new version, he could feel himself shedding just a little more of his adopted persona. He wanted to stop and take a breath, but he couldn’t. It would be out of place. The reporters weren’t being aggressive and the questions weren’t invasive, so he had no excuse to call a halt to the proceedings. They weren’t even near the time limit. He inhaled, holding it and waiting for the next question. 

He was Harry Potter, the man who had saved the Wizarding World. He was Harry Potter, the man who had saved the Wizarding World. He was Harry Potter, the man who had saved the Wizarding World… He could do this. This was an identity he could inhabit. An argument could be made that this _was_ him. He actually was Harry Potter. Marcel was a skin he wore and whatever might be in between the two wasn’t a whole person…

“So, Mr. Potter, any lucky witch…” Harry exhaled sharply, looking up to see that the reporter from _Witch Weekly_ was standing. The man snuck a sly glance at Draco, who was still standing near the edge of the stage. “Or wizard in your life? Or is there still some hope for the rest of us?”

Many people in the crowd laughed. Harry couldn’t stop the look of absolute heartbreak that skittered across his face and, though it was gone in a blink, the damage was done. The illusion of Harry Potter shattered and he felt raw, exposed. For the first time, he could feel eyes on him. He shifted on his feet. “No. At the moment…No.”

The wizard tilted his head, glancing at Draco again. “Was there? A war sweetheart perhaps?”

Harry dropped his eyes down and to the side, to prevent himself from looking for Severus. “I’m not sure that that’s any of your business, thanks. I won’t be naming names for you. I don’t trust that you would leave them alone.”

“You seem quite dedicated to this mystery person.” He looked at Draco again, who rolled his eyes at the scrutiny. 

Harry frowned. “I’m still friends with every person I’ve dated. We were close enough friends to try dating or we became close friends because we were dating. The end of that relationship did not mean the end of the friendship. So yeah, I’m protective of the people I’ve dated. They didn’t ask to be made famous and I won’t force it on them, especially as I’m no longer seeing anyone.”

Another reporter stood, smiling slyly. “Harry, how do you feel about winning _Teen Witch’s_ Hottest Bachelor contest?”

Harry blinked and wondered if this was how Gilderoy Lockhart had felt…Which was when he realized just how much he’d lost the plot. “And I think we’re done here. I’d like to thank everyone for coming all the way out here to talk to me. If you have any more pressing questions that don’t involve my love life, feel free to owl me. Until then, have a great rest of your morning.” He stepped back from the podium and immediately beelined for Draco. 

The blond arched a brow. “If you’re trying to dispel the rumors that I’m your wartime sweetheart, you’re doing a poor job of it.”

Harry laughed desperately, the sound bordering on manic. “I don’t understand anything. Why are they so determined to know about my love life?”

Draco sighed. “There is going to be a front page article on your wartime romance. They are going to construct some extravagant story about how you and I are a modern Romeo and Juliet, destined to be forever apart. About how we had to hide our love out of fear and now…oh…oh god. Now we can’t be together because you’re my professor. Merlin’s balls.”

Minerva appeared at Harry’s elbow as he stared at Draco in horror. “Professor Potter, I would like to take a moment to remind you that relationships between students and the faculty are not prohibited, as long as the student in question is of age. In case you had not read that section of the policies.” Her eyes were twinkling so madly that Harry decided that she must know that she was spouting complete nonsense. 

Harry scowled at her. “Oh sod off, Minerva. You know that that is complete—“

“That is exactly what the press will say.” Severus’ voice over Harry’s left shoulder startled him and he flinched. The man himself appeared next to him. 

Harry swallowed, his throat tight. At least Severus was speaking to him now. Or was that directed at the group? “It’s nonsense.” His voice was thin and he fought to get himself under control. His limbs were going shaky and he felt as though he’d scattered pieces of himself across the room as he’d moved. Who was he supposed to be now? “Regardless of what they print, Draco and I are not shagging. We’re not star-crossed lovers. We’re friends.”

Severus inclined his head, meeting his eyes with an unreadable gaze. “I would speak with you after all this.”

Harry inhaled and held his breath for a moment, telling himself that this meant nothing. That Severus wasn’t going to tell him to fuck off. That Draco was right and they’d be fine. He didn’t believe himself in the slightest. This day was shaping up to be truly unbearable. He was going to need Dreamless Sleep tonight, or he’d be a wreck in the morning. At least, classes didn’t start until Monday. “Of course. I’m going back to my rooms after to work on lesson plans.”

“I’ll accompany you.” 

Harry nodded and breathed. Draco watched them through calculating eyes. Minerva took in all of it and looked as though not rolling her eyes at them was actually painful. She made a shooing motion. “The Governors are waiting. You’ll need to speak to them before fielding questions from the students.”

He shook himself. He didn’t need the scatter pieces of himself for this. He didn’t need to be whole; he just needed to be professional. Professor Potter was a mask he’d been crafting for weeks and he could slip it on comfortably now. Closing his eyes for a moment, he pushed away everything else. He could do this. He could focus on the school, his students, what Minerva needed him to do. He had always been good at putting aside his personal needs and desires for those of others. He called up his Occulmency shields and locked everything away behind them. This was all going to be so much worse afterward, but that was another worry he didn’t have time for.

The next hour was too important to be distracted. His job may very well hinge on this moment with the Governors. He wasn’t sure how Minerva had convinced them to allow her to hire him in the first place, but he imagined it had taken some doing.

He nodded to her and she led him around behind the area where the podium was set up. A large cluster of witches and wizards stood looking around suspiciously. In amongst them… 

“Minister. What a nice surprise. I didn’t know you were coming today.” A blatant lie that Harry delivered with a smile. 

“I couldn’t miss this, Harry! And do, call me Cornelius! No need for you to stand on ceremony.”

Harry smiled thinly at him. “Thank you, Cornelius.”

Harry’d never liked Fudge before the war, for what he considered very good reasons, but since? He found the man to be a simpering sycophant with no head for politics. How he’d gotten to be Minister was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t even sure when the little maggot got elected. He made a mental note to read up on recently political history in Britain. Pulling his attention back to the group, he glanced around, wondering which witch Minerva had been referring to earlier. All of them seemed fairly disgruntled. Because he was talking to the Minister for Magic or because he was being courted by the same? He’d be bestowing no favors on Fudge, no matter how much the man pandered. Although, he wasn’t above using it for his own purposes. “Tell me, has the DMLE made any progress on the fugitives? I haven’t heard from Kingsley or Scrimgeour in some time.”

This casual statement, of course, garnered suspicious and confused expressions from the Board. Minerva stepped forward. “Excuse me, Minister. But Harry really must speak with the Board of Governors.”

The portly little man turned a strange shade of puce and chortled. “Certainly, certainly, Headmistress. Harry, I’ll make sure someone is in contact soon. Can’t have you out of the loop, can we? Ha-Ha.”

“No, we certainly can’t.” Harry turned to the rest of the group. Now that he had their full attention and they his, picking out the particularly angry witch was much easier. She was older than the headmistress, but not nearly so old as Dumbledore had been. Her eyes had the pinched look of someone who was constantly squinting and her mouth was pursed in a scowl. Wizened, Harry decided, would be an all round perfect word to describe her.

Minerva gestured to the woman first, as she elbowed her way to the front of the group. “Helena, this is Harry Potter, the man who killed Voldemort. Harry, may I present Helena Hopkirk, the—“

“I simply do not see how any of this is proper.” She cut in, voice snide. “He’s in some sort of illicit relationship with a student already and he’s hardly an adult himself. He clearly has little to no impulse control. I don’t understand how you can believe that he’s acceptable candidate to teach his former classmates.”

Minerva went rigid, looking very much like she was contemplating violence. She was one of the most formidable witches that Harry had ever had the pleasure of meeting and she could not control hide what she was feeling. Some might call it an asset, but Harry wasn’t among them. Her posture and her eyes would give her away, no matter what he face was doing.

He stepped forward swiftly, cutting off any other reaction she might have, and bowed over the woman’s hand. “Madame. I must apologize for any impression of incompetence I’ve given. I am perfectly capable of controlling my impulses. In fact, if I were not, many of us would be very dead right now. What can I do to convince you otherwise?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I think there is very little you can do, boy. Not everyone considers you a savior, given what you actually did during the war.”

Harry’s spine uncurled slowly and his shoulders relaxed. The sudden loosened posture brought both Draco and Severus to his side immediately. Soon enough to stop his wand, with two fingers pressed into the pulse hammering at his wrist, but not soon enough to stop his mouth. “Madame Hopkirk, I would be very careful with your phrasing. You are after all in the presence of the Minister for Magic and whatever you think you know about me and what I did in the war is likely extremely far off the mark. And if it is not, then I am certainly worried about the source of your information. But of course,” He smiled, lazy and indulgent. He could hear the click of Draco swallowing against a suddenly dry throat and feel a hand rest lightly against his back. “I must merely have misunderstood your meaning. I’m sure you wouldn’t make the kind of accusations that your wording implied.”

The woman gaped for a moment, looking like nothing more than a landed fish, before her jaw snapped shut. She glanced at the Minister, who had taken Harry’s lead and was glaring at her. “Of course not. I’m merely concerned over the future of this school and the safety of its students.” She reached out and grasped his arm, meeting his gaze directly. Grasping his left arm. Right over where his shirt and robes hid the Mark. “I would never want to put them in danger.”

The act was nearly perfect, her face a mask of irritated concern and her fingers digging into her arm. But nearly perfect wasn’t perfection and Harry immediately slipped sideways out of himself, in a way that he hadn’t done since he killed the Dark Lord. He shed himself like a snake skin. He didn’t have to hid emotions behind an Occulmency shield this time, didn’t have to keep his persona straight in his mind, didn’t have to worry about slipping up. Because behind that snake skin was a Death Eater, ready to play the game that Helena Hopkirk has begun, not a cobbled-together mask that he puts on to fulfill a role. 

He was, at his core now, Marcel Dupont, Left Hand of the Dark Lord, and everything else was an act. Almost everything.

And Marcel recognized whoever was inside Helena Hopkirk’s body. Not by name, he could not tell you exactly who it was, but like calls to like, or so they say. Whoever _was_ inside Hopkirk knew things that they should not. They knew things that no one else did and he did not understand how. That didn’t matter. He would find out. He imagined that the Mark on his arm burned. It didn’t.

He met the woman’s gaze, waiting for the whisper of Legilimency, but it did not come. After a beat or two, he smiled again, sharper and with more teeth. “Something on which I am sure we all agree.” He considered her for a moment. She could, of course, be bluffing, but with Severus and Draco at his back, it was not a risk he could take. If there was one thing Marcel and Harry had in common, it was that neither would allow harm to those two. He simply would not have that. He shifted, pressing into the hand at his back. “Which is something I wanted to assure the entire board.” He broke eye contact and swept his gaze over them, making sure to acknowledge them each individually. “I know I have, in the past, been known as something of a trouble maker. It seems being the target of a power-hungry megalomaniac will do that. But I think I can confidently say that I know the ins and outs of Hogwarts better than most people. I have always put the safety of the Wizarding World above my own needs or desires and I will continue to do that on a smaller scale here at Hogwarts. I will allow nothing and no one to threaten this school or its inhabitants. Whatever the cost.”

He said all this with a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth. There was a soft murmur of approval. He did not return his attention to Hopkirk, but he was certain that his message was received. He’d layered it deeply enough into his speech that even Minerva was smiling indulgently at him. He continued, “I am dedicated to both this school and its students. I will do my absolute best to teach to the standard set by the Headmistress and steward these students through the stresses and worries of education as well as helping them enter the wider Wizarding World.”

This seemed to satisfy them, though Hopkirk was still trying to burn a hole in him with her eyes. Did she always act like this? No one around her seemed to have noticed anything amiss. Which could mean that whoever was impersonating her knew her well, she always acted standoffish, or the Board didn’t know her well enough to tell the difference. He clenched his jaw. That was distinctly unhelpful. He made a mental note to cast a tracker on her, when he wasn’t the center of attention.

Minerva turned her smile on the Board. “As you can see, Mr Potter is poised, professional, and dedicated to this school. He is easily the most qualified person for the position, regardless of his age. And in fact he has a history of quite competently teaching his peers.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder.

Hermione appeared in Harry’s peripherals, Cho at one shoulder and Ron at the other. He blinked, fighting not to draw on them, and turned. Whoever was touching his back pressed more firmly.

“Miss Granger, our newest Head Girl, Mr. Weasley, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and Miss Chang who is flying seeker for Ravenclaw and one of our Eighth Years can all attest to that, should you need more proof. They were all members of a student study group during Dolores Umbridge’s tenure of Defense instructor. The group, nicknamed the DA for Defense Association, sought to…fill the gaps left by their instructor’s educational methods. Mr. Potter here led that group and served as primary practical instructor.” Minerva glanced over at Hermione.

The Gryffindor smile around at the Board members. “I was able to produce a corporeal Patronus at fifteen, thanks to Ha—er…Professor Potter.”

Several of the governors looked skeptical at this assertion. Harry bit back a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “I will be addressing the students next. I promised to answer questions for them. You are all welcome to stay and listen to the answers. It might help put your mind at ease. You are, of course, also welcome to ask your own questions.” He directed this last to Hopkirk. Could she hear the threat underlying his tone? He couldn’t be sure. Her expression didn’t seem to change, though she did glance around at the students.

Minerva smiled at him. It was tight at the edges, strained. He could see the tension coiled in her. She was clearly worried that the Board was going to put up a fuss. Harry eyed them from his periphery, assessing quickly. None of the actual governors would object to him. Most of them were cowed by The Man Who Killed Voldemort, awed to be in his presence. A few seemed bored, as though they couldn’t care less about the day-to-day administration of the school and faculty. One or two were frowning, but clearly weren’t ready to say anything. He didn’t know them well enough to tell if that was a lack of articulation or a lack of desire. 

The hand at his back vanished and he shifted his shoulders again. He had to shake off Marcel. He was Harry Potter, he told himself forcefully, teacher at Hogwarts. His skin prickled under his robes and his eyes began to ache. Coming back from the Death Eater was harder than slipping into him. Much harder. Harry resisted shaking himself like a wet dog by sheer force of will. He tilted his head, cracking his neck. A few more questions from the students and all of this would be over. He’d have some time to properly put detach himself from Marcel and to find out more about Helena Hopkirk.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry shouldn’t have been surprised that the majority of the questions that the students asked him were related to thing he’d done at school before the war. He shouldn’t have been, after the first meeting of the DA, but he was. What did it matter if he’d killed a basilisk? Who cared about dementors, especially since most of them had been destroyed in the war? How’d they even find out about his duel with the Dark Lord at the end of fourth year? 

Harry suspected that Albus had had a hand in it, but for what purpose, he could not possibly fathom. 

He talked and talked about what had happened to him at school, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his bed in the dungeons and sleep. None of them understood. None of them really cared to understand. This was his life. It had been _his life_.

His magic was going a bit wobbly. He could feel it running up and down his fingers, which he tucked around the podium and out of sight. He felt more raw and out of control today than he had yesterday. The back of his neck was crawling with the weigh of Hopkirk’s eyes on him. It was as though he’d been sucked back into the war and even earlier, back into the time in his life when he was killing basilisks and freeing animals and earnestly doing _nothing_ that helped the war effort. He was a Death Eater and he was a child and he wanted to scream. 

His instincts were on high alert. Any movement from the crowd could send him into a crouch, wand drawn. The only thing that had stopped it from happening already was Draco standing resolutely by the double doors to the hall and Severus moving slowly and silently through the crowd, prowling. 

His Left and Right Hand. Nausea twisted his stomach.

“You seem pretty chummy with Malfoy, but your hatred of each other in legendary. What happened?” A voice cut through Harry’s distraction, bringing him back to the moment.

He exhaled, clamping down on his first instinct, which was to tell the person to go to hell. 

That had sounded an awful lot like one of the Hufflepuffs from the DA. Harry squinted into the crowd and spotted Ernie Macmillan grinning at the boy standing next to him. “Ernie, there was a war on.” The Hufflepuff’s grin dropped and he went pale. “What happened? We grew up. Petty childhood rivalries are the first casualty when you’re fighting for your life…fighting for your future.”

“And what about Snape? Was that a petty childhood rivalry too?” The voice was harsh and sneering. When he looked round, Harry found Astoria Greengrass glaring at him. He’d never even spoken to Daphne’s little sister before and he knew that Severus didn’t have any particular opinion on the girl. Where, then, was this hostility coming from? 

The Greengrasses had not numbered among the Dark Lord’s followers, but nor had they joined the Order of the Phoenix. They’d been one of the few families who had managed to stay genuinely neutral.

Harry was suddenly very aware of how many Death Eater families were represented in the room and how very dangerous that could prove. “I’m not certain what you mean by that, Astoria.” Harry thought back on his interactions with Severus since breakfast and exhaled slowly again. The press block was still present, milling about at the front of the crowd and now looking like they’d scented blood. He could practically see the headlines shift from his Romeo-and-Juliet story with Draco to…any number of things, really. The Hot For Teacher headlines was the one he dreaded most…or anything that brought up Severus’ role as a spy again. Wherever Lucius Malfoy and his Merry Band of Misfits were, they’d probably have access to a paper and a reminder of Severus’ betrayal was not something they needed. It might start them asking too many questions. That was, if the Helena Hopkirk imposter didn’t go tell tales, which seemed unlikely. “Professor Snape, at the behest of the Headmistress, has helped me construct my lesson plans for the school year. He had been both professional and cordial to me and I have endeavored to extend to him the same curtesy. Does that answer your question?”

Harry shifted to his back foot before realizing that he was moving into a fighting stance. He froze, waiting for her to respond. There was nothing he could do about what had already happened nor about her bringing it up. If he warned the press off now, they’d be worse off. There was no-one to fight. 

She was still glaring, her pretty face twisted up. “No. That does not answer my question—“

He shook his head, cutting her off. He couldn’t risk whatever she was about to say. “Well then, next time you’ll have to phrase it better. In the meantime, I think we’re done here. I will be in my office this afternoon if anyone has questions that they’d prefer to ask in private. Otherwise, I will see you all on Monday for classes.”

He took a decided step back and the podium disappeared. Draco hadn’t moved from his position by the door and Harry couldn’t see Severus from where he was standing. He wasn’t sure he cared to consider any of it just now. He beelined for Minerva, ignoring reaching hands and shouted questions. 

“Harry, I think you’ve done an excellent job of putting everyone’s minds at rest. I want to thank you doing this.” Minerva said, smiling, when he reached her.

Harry waved her off. “Have you seen Hopkirk?”

Minerva frowned. “She left during the question. I saw her go by your boy where he was standing by the door.”

Harry glowered at her, a little relieved and a little annoyed. He hadn’t wanted to play that game more just now, but he needed more information about the woman. “He’s not my boy.”

Minerva smirked at him and glanced over his shoulder. “He rather is. And here comes your other boy.”

Harry frowned and turned to look. Severus was making his way through the crowd toward him. “Severus is neither mine nor a boy.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Well, you would know about that last.”

If Harry was anyone else, he’d have blushed to the roots of his hair. As he was, he simply closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed the impulse to violence. “I’d like to speak with you in your office sometime tomorrow, Minerva, if you’ve a minute?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “In trouble, am I?”

Harry shook his head and sighed. “You? No. The rest of us? Most likely.”

Her eyes went sharp and she opened her mouth to speak.

“Perhaps, Potter is feeling overtired after his ordeal with the press and would prefer retiring to his rooms. You can speak more of it later.” Severus’ voice was silky smooth and deceptively gentle. 

Which meant, Harry knew, that he was seething and there would be pain and probably blood in someone’s immediate future. His own, most likely, though he didn’t think the blood would be literal. He hoped not.

Minerva blinked. “Of course, you’re right, Severus. Why don’t you accompany Harry down? The dungeons can be tricky and he hasn’t been living there long.”

Harry ground his teeth at her heavy handedness, but tilted his head and smiled. “How thoughtful, Headmistress.” His voice was tight.

She smiled, mostly teeth, and waved them away. Severus led the way out of the hall. Harry followed in his wake, helpless to do anything else and feeling much like he was headed to his own execution. Draco fell into step with him, as they passed him. Severus twitched, but remained silent.

The three made their way to Harry’d room. Once the door had shut behind them and the ward magic flared, Severus spun on Harry. “You are out of control. Your magic has been all over the place today and you’ve been slipping in and out of yourself. What the hell are you thinking?”

Harry swallowed against a tight throat. “I’m thinking that Helena Hopkirk is an imposter.” Hadn’t people demanded enough from him today? Couldn’t he even have a moment to breath in his own rooms? He sighed and went to slump into the couch.

Severus narrowed his eyes and perched on the arm of one of the chairs. “The Governor? Is that what brought out Marcel? You were hiding the slips well, but when that woman spoke to you, even your little friends noticed the difference.”

Harry nodded, tipping his head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “She threatened me. She reached out and took hold of my Mark and she threatened us.”

Severus’ gaze sharpened and he looked like he might say something, but Draco beat him to it, frowning. He had worry written clearly on his face. “I saw her touch you. We were there by then, but I wasn’t there in time to hear what she said that prompted the switch.”

Harry told them. Severus watched Harry as he spoke, looking thoughtful. “That sounds like a very direct threat against you. Not us. But you said she threatened us.”

Harry worked his jaw for a moment and stared into the fire. “Yes. Us. If she is an imposter and her threat was real, it isn’t just me in danger. Lucius and Bella and the rest know that you and Marcel…were close. They know that Draco and Marcel were close. And now they’ll know that Draco and I are close…the dots aren’t difficult to connect. Draco is already at risk, after the little stunt we pulled today, but I won’t have you thrust into unnecessary danger.” Harry turned to meet Severus’ gaze. The dark eyes were fierce in the firelight, but with what, Harry wasn’t sure. “I met her threat head on. If she does know something, she will know exactly what I am capable of. She doesn’t, now she knows I am not someone to cross. If she could feel my magic through the contact, all the better.”

Severus breathed, refusing to break eye contact, but not willing to respond either. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, until Draco pointedly cleared his throat.

“That little stunt, as you call it, may very well have made everything worse. The headlines tomorrow will see to that. That was foolish of you both.” Severus’ voice was flat and he turned his eyes back to the fireplace.

Harry could feel his bones beneath his skin. He had, it seemed to him, lived a thousand lifetimes and he could feel each one. He was brittle. A single puff of breath could scatter all the parts of him to the winds. He tipped his head up again and closed his eyes.

He could hear the anger in Draco’s voice when he turned on Severus. “You do not get to judge me for that. You do not get to judge either of us for that. If you’d pull your goddamn head out of your arse long enough to see what’s in front of your face.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? That the two of you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for five minutes together in a room full of _reporters_?” Severus’ tone was snide and biting. Harry could hear the sneer. 

“No.” Feeling like it might cost him all of his remaining energy, Harry dragged his head up and opened his eyes. They were both looking at him. “No, it’s not your fault, Severus. We were both foolish. I…was being selfish and childish. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

Draco scowled at him, so much anger in his face that Harry was reminded of their school days. He wanted to laugh, but he was afraid that he’d start crying instead. “That’s a lie. Harry, don’t lie to him to spare his feelings. He deserves to know and serves him right if it upsets him.” Severus’ eyes were narrowed again and he was flicking back and forth between Harry and Draco. “Yes, I touched him in a room full of reporters.” Draco turned the scowl on Severus. “I’d do it all over again because Harry was falling apart. He’s still falling apart. You think his magic is out of control? You think he can’t keep himself straight? You’re right. And do you want to know why? What’s tearing him up so badly that he’s ripping himself apart to try and keep it from showing?”

Harry stood. “Draco.” His voice cracked through the room and the blond froze. “That’s enough.” He was abruptly numb, no longer weary. He would not burden Severus with this. He wouldn’t let Draco do it either.

Draco swallowed. He stood, panting, practically vibrating with anger for a moment, before he managed to call up some courage. “No, it’s not enough. Not for either of you and that’s literally the problem.” He paused and looked up at Harry. “Harry, you are coming apart and you need to fix this.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “But I can’t force you to fix it. So let’s deal with the other hippogriff in the room, shall we? Severus acting like we were at a Dark Revel.”

Severus stiffened, his eyes widening a fraction. “Excuse me?”

Draco nodded, a vicious smile sliding across his face. “Yes. You were scouting the room, marking the exits, assessing and evaluating the space and resource in the event of a battle. You were acting as Harry’s Right Hand.”

Severus’ jaw clenched again and, even from his place perched on the chair arm, he managed to look down his nose at Draco. “As you were his Left.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t being his Left Hand. I was being his friend.”

“Are you suggesting that, had he been attacked, you would have done nothing?” Severus sneered. “I will not apologize for attempting to keep us safe. For attempting to keep Harry safe. You may condemn me as you will, but I will not regret it.”

“Oh, won’t you? You were the blow that cracked him today.” Harry clearly wasn’t needed for this conversation and he couldn’t make Draco stop talking. He couldn’t seem to do much of anything right today. He sunk back onto the sofa and tried to talk himself out of crying. They continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there. “You. You out there, playing at politics and making him feel like—“

“Draco.” Harry couldn’t let him say it. He couldn’t. Not out loud.

Severus looked like he’d been slapped. “Harry…”

Harry shook his head, not wanting to have this conversation. Not wanting any of them to say it, to make it real, to make everything a hundred times worse. If Severus did think of him like that…even subconsciously…He couldn’t bare it. “It was stupid. I’ll be fine. It’s…not your concern.”

That apparently didn’t help, because Severus’ expression didn’t change. If anything, it got worse. “Not my concern?”

Harry snorted. “No. Not your concern. Now, I’ve got lessons to plan, so if you’d kindly vacate my rooms, you can take your nonsensical argument elsewhere.”

Draco huffed loudly and left, muttering under his breath the whole way. Severus did not move. Harry arched a brow at him as if to say Well? when all he really wanted was to demand answers. Or to force Severus out of his rooms so he could try to piece himself back together.

Severus looked away, into the fire. “Harry…I…” He paused, swallowed. Harry waited, wary and suddenly unwilling to tip this balance in either direction. Severus was so rarely inarticulate. “I believe that we’ve been consistently miscommunicating and I would like the chance to clarify some things.”

Harry shrugged and gestured for him to go on. 

Severus swallowed. “Last night, you told me that I—“

Harry flinched and pushed back into the couch. “Can we not? Please?”

Severus shook his head and finally looked back at Harry. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but no. This is a conversation we need to have because what you said last night…What you seem to think I was doing…You are very mistaken.”

Harry frowned. He almost reached up and tapped his ear to make sure they were working properly. He can’t have heard correctly. Or maybe he was misinterpreting again. Either way, his heart kicked like a mule in his chest and started to race. “What?”

The man paused and exhaled. “Harry, when I ended things between us, I did so, so that you would have the freedom to chose whoever you’d like. You’re so young, so full of life. Your future is bright. And being tied to me would just weigh you down. I am…old and broken and steeped so long in the darkness it has tainted my soul. I’m barely fit company, never mind anything more. That conversation was not a litany of your faults. It was an explanation of mine. Last night was not me listing why I do not wish to have a relationship with you. It was a desperate attempt to prevent Fred Weasley from trying to pick up where you left off. He is a child and unfit to be in your bed, never mind your heart. I will admit to…a small amount of jealousy as well, but mainly I knew it would end in disaster and I refused to see you hurt like that. I did not realize that the one hurting you most was me. You will never truly understand how sorry I am for that. I never meant to make you feel as though you’d done something wrong. I _never_ intended to make you feel as though you don’t deserve to be loved. Or that I…” He paused again. Harry watched the muscles in his jaw jump and his fingers flex against the air. “Harry…I love you. Of course, I do. That was never in question and I truly believed that you knew that.”

Harry thought he might be hallucinating. That was the only explanation for this. He blinked hard. No, Severus was still sitting there, watching him with anxious eyes and a blank face. Harry shook his head. His hands were shaking. When had that happened? “I’m sorry. I can’t have heard you right. What?”

Severus flinched. “I deserved that, I suppose. Will you forgive me my callous thoughtlessness?”

Harry breathed for a moment. He couldn’t feel his fingertips. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening here. “Did you honestly just say that you love me?”

Severus’ face twitched into the smallest frown before smoothing out again. “Yes.”

The strange, racing numbness vanished in an instant to be replaced by a slow rolling tide of anger. “So you…what? Dumped me because you love me? Is that what you just told me? Are you really so sadistic? So masochistic?” He voice was low and harsh. It was a horrible thing to say and it gave Harry a tiny thrill of satisfaction. For causing even a fraction of what he’d been feeling for so long. The thought soured his stomach and he swallowed thickly.

“I deserved that as well.” Severus slumped a little, shoulders hunching just a fraction. He looked as though he were expecting a physical blow. “Harry, I…”

Harry narrowed his eyes and examined Severus. He seemed smaller somehow. Harry knew that if he gave in to the rising bubble of anger in his chest, they’d be stuck in this hellish limbo, possibly forever. The rest of their lives would be a series of vicious attacks and counterattacks. They were simply too good at finding each other’s weak spots. And Harry could not bare the thought of having his relationship with Severus devolve into barbed sarcasm and pain. He couldn’t handle that.

Taking a moment, Harry ground his teeth and tried to push the anger aside. He could deal with it later, when they had time to get down a foundation here. He needed honesty from Severus and so he needed to give Severus honesty in turn.

“Severus…These past few months have been hellish for me. You hurt me worse than anyone else ever has, because you're so far behind my defenses that I can’t shield myself from you. God…I love you so much. You cracked me open and scooped out my insides, Severus. When you went away, you took them with you. I’ve been…hollow, like the only thing that rattles around in my chest anymore is my breath. No more heartbeat, because there was no more heart. I thought you knew how much I love you. I thought you knew that you were the only one I wanted. The only one I will ever want. Always.” Harry leaned forward, staring at the effect his words were having. “How could you not know?”

Severus glanced up at him, something fragile in his face. “But you could have anyone. Any witch or wizard would count themselves lucky—“

“That’s such bullshit. Severus, I don’t care what I could have with any of them. I only care what I could have with you.” For the first time in months, Harry felt like he could breath easily. “Sev, no one knows me like you do. No one understands me like you do. I feel…myself with you. And I need you to tell me what you want here. You said you love me, but obviously that doesn’t mean anything, necessarily. What do you want from me?”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another. Severus couldn’t seem to bring himself to speak. Finally, he looked away. Harry sagged, thinking that that was answer enough. He shifted, about to stand, when Severus spoke. “Everything.” Severus turned back and his eyes were… Harry stared at him, lips parted. “What do I want? I want everything. I want all of you. I want early mornings, when you laze in bed while I get up to dress. I want breakfasts, sharing tea or coffee and toast in a kitchen that we share. I want to be the one you turn to for comfort and reassurance when you need it. Not Draco. Not Minerva. Me. I want you to go off and have an evening with friends, to get drunk or do some stupid thing that means you no longer have the weight of our world on your shoulders and then I want you to come home and tell me all about it. I want you in my bed, in _our_ bed. I want to suck you on this couch and fuck you over the kitchen table. I want to be there when you wake from the nightmares. I want to sit in front of our fireplace and read a book while you grade papers or write a campaign speech or do whatever the hell you want. I want to be forced to interact with the entire Weasley clan because they are your family. I want to bicker and have arguments because that is what people who live together do. I want to be able to take you hand at functions. I want to able to touch you without worrying how it would be taken when we are in public. I want to be able to help when your magic goes haywire. I want your tantrums and mood swings and also your kindness and generosity of spirit. I want Harry and Marcel and whatever is in between or outside of that. I want…” He paused to catch his breath. He was very nearly begging. Harry gaped. “I want always, Harry.”

There was another beat of silence before Harry managed to choke out, “Yes.”

Severus blinked and swayed forward, toward Harry. “Excuse me?”

Harry could feel the grin that was spreading across his face. It was huge and ridiculous, but it matched the swelling feeling in his chest perfectly. The anger had fled, no longer beating against his shields, and he hoped it wouldn’t return later. “Yes. I want all of that. Yes. Please, yes? Can we?”

Severus inhaled sharply. “You mean that? Because if you agree and change your mind later, I’m not sure I—“

“Sev, I won’t change my mind. That is all I’ve wanted for months. I thought, when the war ended, we’d finally have our chance, but then…well.” He gestured helplessly. “You said my future was bright? Not without you, it isn’t. Severus, you have been the brightest thing in my universe for what feels like years. We walked through the valley of death together and we both came out stronger on the other side. You said I could have anyone I want…Then I pick you. I want you. All that you are and have been and will be. Any other choice would be…swallow. Picking anyone else would be a lie and a fantasy. It would be…the life given by unicorn blood. Because no one else will ever know me like you do. No one else will ever understand what I’ve done, like you do. Even Draco, who saw so much…doesn’t really understand. It’s not just that we’ve been thrown together thought. It’s not just that we share a story. It’s more than that. It’s always been more than that. It’s you. You…” Harry ran his hands through his hair, tugging a little, trying to get a hold on what he wanted to say. “You are a good man. After everything that’s happened, after all the spying and lying and after everything Dumbledore made you do, everything the Dark Lord made you do, you’re still a good man, Severus Snape. There’s some…untouched core of you that survived everything. You’re the strongest, most driven person I’ve ever met. You’re so smart, it’s scary sometimes. Your tongue is as sharp as your mind and I love you for it. Even when I thought I hated you, I always admired your mind and your sharp tongue. Even when you looked at me like I was…the sludge at the bottom of a first year’s cauldron, there was still some part of me that recognized your strength, your pride, your determination and dedication, the steel in you. And now? Well…now I’ve been given the greatest gift. I’ve been given the time and opportunity to get to know you. Everything I learn about you, Severus, makes me love you a little bit more.”

Severus breathed for a moment, staring at Harry. “You’re not angry? I…I hurt so badly. I treated you…poorly. You’re not angry? You still want me?”

Harry offered him a half smile. It curled at the corner of his mouth and shone in his eyes. “Of course, I’m angry. And I will likely be angry for some time.” Severus flinched. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Please…don’t push me away again…Sev…”

Severus swallowed and stood to go and sit on the couch next to Harry. They sat, side by side, in silence for a moment, before Severus opened his arms. Harry fell into the embrace like a drowning man on a life preserver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no more banked chapters and we’re coming up to the end of my originally written storyline. It’s possible that this will be my last chapter. This was always just a fragment of a storyline. It’s significantly more plotty than the original version and it’s possible I’ll post more after this, but i won’t guarantee it. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. If there are more updates, they are going to be far more spaced out than they have been. Maybe even weeks apart. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. I love reading your comments and conjectures. :D


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